


If You Need Me

by Love_you_a_latte



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Chronic Illness, Death, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23833585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_you_a_latte/pseuds/Love_you_a_latte
Summary: "If you need me, I'll be right thereWhen you're happy and when you're scaredI can still be your shoulderI'll be by your side even if I'm not next to you, to youOh I'll be by your side even if I'm not next to you"She was dying.The Avengers were falling apart.And HYDRA was on the rise.Reader is given less than a month to live, but tries to hide it. When the truth is revealed, the team crumples under the weight of it, and there are many moments of grief, sadness, anger, joy, and laughter, before the clock hits "one". But, will it ever hit zero?NOTE: This started as a fic just about the Avengers as a family, but now the main pairing is Nat/Reader. Please note that when I say "slow burn", I mean there isn't any making out until chapter thirteen. Just be warned.
Relationships: Avengers Team/Reader, Bruce Banner/Reader, Clint Barton/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Reader, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Reader, Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Thor (Marvel)/Reader, Tony Stark/Reader, Vision (Marvel)/Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Reader
Comments: 153
Kudos: 346





	1. Saying Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Is this my way of coping with the fact that my friend got diagnosed with Leukemia? Who knows!! But either way, writing this felt very cathartic for me.  
> I really hope you enjoy this story.

______27

"I'm dying, Rhodey."

The lab that was once filled with arguing was suddenly very, very silent. The only noises were the quiet whirring of DUM-E, and your ragged breaths.

"What?" His eyebrows raised, posture suddenly weak, eyes filled with shock, confusion, and fear.

"I'm dying," you repeated, voice trembling this time.

"What do you mean?"

"It's chronic myelogenous leukemia. I've had it for a long time."

Rhodey sunk down into the nearest chair, his eyes trained on you. When he didn't respond, you sighed, and continued.

"It's very rare for young people. I've had it since I was a teenager, but medications always seemed to work. It would disappear for awhile, then reappear. This time, it's much, much worse. I've been undergoing different therapies, and trying every experimental drug there is. Nothing works. Doctors say I've got a month tops."

The air was heavy, and it felt like the world was trying to suffocate you. Just moments before, you had been arguing about how you had endangered yourself during a mission. But now, it was the furthest thing from your mind. The words "I'm dying" had slipped from your mouth unexpectedly, but it had felt good to release them. Like lead weights, they had been weighing you down for years now, making your heart heavy. Now, it was out in the open.

"Does anyone else know?" 

You could see the desperate look in his eyes. He was trying to find some sort of foothold, some way to grasp the situation. But it was like his mind had come screeching to a halt the moment those words fell from your lips and crashed to the ground. You were one of his best friends, and the thought of you leaving was a difficult one.

"You're the only one," you admitted, breaking eye contact to glance at your feet, still enclosed in their combat boots from the mission.

"Why the hell did you accept this mission?" He sounded angry again, but not with the same tone as before. Instead of disappointment, fear laced the undertones of his voice, causing it to shake. You lifted your eyes, determined to appear put-together. You had hid your pain this long, what were a few more moments?

"I wasn't about to let people die just because I'm falling apart. I've dealt with this my whole life, Rhodey. I've learned to keep moving in spite of it."

"You're not falling apart, [Y/N]. You're dying for Christ's sake!" He surged forward out of his seat, and began pacing the room. You watched silently, unmoving.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" He asked, his voice lowering again. He came to stop in front of you, a look of betrayal on his face.

"I knew what would happen. Everyone would panic. Tony and Bruce would spend day and night trying to find a cure because they can't take 'no' for an answer, and everyone else would spend months being miserable. I don't want to waste my last few moments watching my friends like that."

Rhodey nodded solemnly, and you stepped forward to hug him, but were interrupted by Tony bursting through the door in his usual flamboyant manner.

"What are you two lovebirds canoodling about?" He asked, sauntering over to his desk, on top of which was a bag of goldfish. Rhodey stood there, his mouth gaping open and closed like a fish, and you could see the gears in his head turning furiously. Tony looked on, shoving goldfish into his mouth.

"We... We were just... You know what? Why don't you tell him?" He finished, his hands flying in your general direction.

"Nothing. Rhodey was just lecturing me on parachute safety," you said, back to your wisecracking self.

"Fine then. Keep your secrets," Tony said, spinning around to glance at his computer monitor. You nodded, though he couldn't see you, and left the room. You just hoped Rhodey wouldn't let the cat out of the bag.

Still, you figured it would be time to come clean.

"FRIDAY?" You called as you navigated the Avenger's Compound's hallways.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Schedule a press conference for two hours from now."

"That will be seven P.M., is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Where would you like it to be held?"

"Here."

________23

You had been hiding in your room during the days since the press conference, actively avoiding the team. You knew it was a poor way to spend some of your last days, but you also knew that they needed time to process. The Avengers were a lot of things, but being good at processing their emotions wasn't on that list.

You had stepped up to the podium in front of dozens of reporters who could only be bothered to refer to you by your superhero name, and gave one single statement. You had told the entire story, from when you were first diagnosed, to now. They had tried to yell over you, but you soldiered on, a stony expression forced on your features. When you had announced that you were dying, and there was no way to stop it, the room had grown silent before immediately erupting. That was the moment you left, and hid away in your room. Lucky enough for you, the team had been called away on multiple emergency missions, which had left you the compound to yourself for the most part. You should've been out there with them, but you knew that any time you spent fighting and running and trying to heal from injuries was putting you at risk of immediate death. And you hated to imagine holding the team behind and preventing them from saving lives just because you collapsed in the middle of an assignment. So, you stayed out of it, and instead spent your time watching all the movies and reading all the books that people had insisted you see. You wanted to milk the most out of this time.

It was funny, really. When Tony had been dying, he had done the wildest things, thrown the craziest party, and tried to do anything and everything. But for you, all of that didn't matter. You had already seen the world, and done all the typical bucket list things, like skydiving (a mission outside of Bucharest), visiting Paris (an assassination mission to take out a scientist experimenting on humans), and told your family you loved them (you had reminded the Avengers many times during the past year). All you really wanted to do was rest. Even if you had wanted to go crazy, you were too weak to do anything drastic. Instead, you spent your time resting and calling all the people in your contacts to check up on them.

The team had just left on yet another mission, and maybe you should've been sad. HYDRA was ramping up their efforts recently, even attacking small towns to steal weaponry and kidnap people for something big, although no one had figured out what that "something" was. This was probably the best time to die, you had decided, because it would lessen the pain of it all. If the team wasn't around you, they wouldn't be able to mourn the same way. They wouldn't have to spend every day watching you and knowing that you could be snatched away at any moment.

You had decided that, when they came back, you'd make them a meal. Something big and delicious to remember you by. Something big and delicious as an apology for all the pain you were putting them through.

They had seen enough loved ones die; they didn't deserve this. And yet, it was happening.

_______19

Tony gripped your shoulders tightly, his eyes glued to yours, and you knew that he was far away in his own head. He looked sad. But he didn't crumple. Instead, he kissed both sides of your face, and gave you a tender pat on the arms before taking his seat at the dinner table.

Natasha was next. You had expected her to remain stoic and cool as always, so you were shocked when tears rolled down her face and dropped onto the floor.

"I love you," she said, and pulled you into a tight hug.

After Natasha was Clint. He could barely look you in the eyes, simply pulling you into a quick hug and back out again, nodding in your general direction, and rushing to the safety of his chair next to Nat.

After him was Rhodey. Since you had given him the news, he had been your rock through all of this. He helped you stand firm, and mediated when one of the other Avengers got heated from emotion and began yelling or panicking. He pulled you in close, rubbing your back.

"It's going to be okay," he promised, and you believed him.

Next was Bruce. He held his hand out, which you shook, and used to yank him in for a hug.

"I love you big guy," you murmured, before letting him go. You could see the guilt in his face, and you knew that he was still doing mental backflips to try and find a solution.

After Bruce left, Thor shuffled over slowly. He looked so forlorn, with tears tracing their way down his chisled face. He looked on from his hunched position like a sad dog, and you dragged him into a steady embrace.

"I'm doing to miss you," he said, his voice breaking at the end. You nodded, tears blurring your vision, and lightly pushed him in the direction of the table.

Steve stepped forward quickly, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you from the ground. He shoved his face into your neck, and you held on tight.

"Don't know what I'm gonna do without you leading me anymore," you admitted, and tried not to worry about what death would be like. He nodded, too choked up to respond, and took his seat with his team.

Wanda fell into your embrace, and you could feel her grief wash over you in waves. Even though you had no powers of your own, you sometimes felt like you could hear her thoughts, or sense her emotions, unlike any of the other Avengers. Now, it hurt.

The Vision locked eyes with you steadily, hardly a trace of grief on his face. In fact, he seemed lighter than usual.

"I am happy for you, [Y/N]. You are about to embark on the greatest journey: death. Though I will not be with you, I wish you the best of luck." You nodded, and shook his hand.

Sam stepped forward, and pulled you into a rough embrace. You hadn't known each other long, but he had remained a help for you whenever you needed it, and had spent countless nights with you watching trashy rom coms.

"We're gonna miss you," he said through your hair, and you nodded your thanks, the tears spilling from your eyes in waves.

Bucky was the last to greet you before dinner, and you could read the nervousness in his eyes. So, you simply offered your hand, and shook his. He glanced at you respectfully before sitting down, and you followed soon after.

The meal was a quiet one, and any strings of laughter that broke forth sounded more like pain than joy. And yet, you cherished those moments, because you knew you were running on borrowed time.

_______10

You hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But when you found yourself crouched below your desk searching for a pencil and Tony and Steve stormed into the lab, you didn't dare get up until they had cooled down.

"You need to stop this, Stark."

"No. You know what? I'm tired of your bullshit. I can do whatever the hell I want. It's a free country, isn't it? I'm pretty sure you're the one that coined that term anyway."

"Listen, Tony. This isn't going to save her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

There was a beat of silence, and you could hear Steve sigh heavily. The exhaustion was evident in his voice.

"I know what you're doing," he said slowly, voice purposely lowered. "You can't save [Y/N], so you're working on something else to try and make up for it."

Your breath caught in your throat painfully, but you remained quiet.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tony said, his voice too nonchalant. "I'm doing this," he said, punctuating each word by jabbing his finger into the Captain's chest, "to save these lives. HYDRA's up to something, and we need to take action. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm going to spend every waking moment fighting for the people they're after."

Tony left, slamming the door on his way out. You could hear Steve breath in, composing himself, before following after. It wasn't until they were long gone that you shimmied out from under the table, eyes bright red from crying.

This hadn't been the first crack in the team. Throughout the past week or so, arguments had sprung up here and there between even the closest partners. No one would admit it, but the threat of losing you was wearing on them more than any villain ever had.

Sometimes, they would stop when they noticed you crying. Other times, they were too furious to see it. You often left the room, and took a nap in your bedroom to avoid watching them fall apart any more. You were getting increasingly exhausted, and you knew you had just over a week left. They knew it too, and it was tearing them to pieces. They barely functioned during missions and, more than once, you had read through a mission report and noticed that the body count was uncharacteristically high.

You hated this.

So, you asked FRIDAY to call them all together.

When the Avengers assembled in the conference room with its floor-to-ceiling windows and massive oblong metal table, they all looked terrified. You could tell they were expecting bad news.

"I love you all," you began, voice weaker than it was a month ago. "But you're all being a bunch of bitches right now."

No one would meet your eyes. They looked anywhere except you, counting the ceiling tiles and studying their nails closely.

"You've done nothing but bicker, and I'm sick and tired of it." Your voice cracked. "I just want to see you guys happy. Is that so much to ask?" You were crying now. "I only have days left, guys. I just want to spend some time with my family."

With that, every heart in the room broke.

_______5

Your head was resting in Natasha's lap, your body laying heavily on Bucky's, and your feet tucked under Sam. It was a pleasant feeling, having the Avengers surrounding you on all sides while your favorite movie played. The kettle corn and candy had long been devoured, and the last few moments of the film flashed brightly across your face.

You were asleep. Had been for a good thirty minutes, but no one said anything. They had grown used to you sleeping all the time, and knew that even if it was discouraging, it also meant that you trusted them, and you really did want to spend every moment with them, even if you were asleep the entire time.

When the credits rolled, Tony hit a button on the remote, and the TV clicked off, its light replaced with the overheads.

One glance around the room told the team that Wanda was crying.

She didn't look sad, or angry, or otherwise upset in any way. In fact, her expression was so empty that she looked barely alive. Yet the mascara tracts of her tears betrayed her.

Noticing the eyes on her, she spoke.

"I'm going to really miss her."

Everyone wanted to respond, but no one could. The words stuck in their throats, some coming out in the form of quiet sobs as they watched you rest peacefully, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. For once, even Steve had nothing to say. He was at a loss. Losing you was something he could have never planned for. Not like this.

"Do you remember what she said to me when Pietro died?" Wanda whispered out into the room, her heavy head resting on the arm of the couch nearest to Sam. "She said, 'No one's ever really gone. They're all just... Misplaced. Or forgotten."

And maybe that was true. But to the Avengers, death felt very, very real, and very, very permanent.

_______3

Tony swept his arm across his desk, sending papers flying. Picking up the nearest object, which happened to be a snow globe you had bought him when you went on a mission to Belgium, he hurled it at the wall, and watched it shatter. He stood there, chest heaving, for a few moments before realizing what he had done. He fell to the ground by the broken pieces, and picked up the biggest chunk he could find. It was one of the miniature buildings that had once been inside the globe, barely half an inch tall.

Dry sobs echoed through the cold, unmoving lab, bouncing off its white walls that you had always bothered him about painting.

It had been a long time since Tony Stark cried.

When he finally picked himself up again, barely strong enough to stand, he still clutched the tiny building to his chest.

"Where is [Y/N] now?" He asked into the empty room, intending to find you and hug you or at least tell you he was sorry for breaking your gift. FRIDAY replied.

"Outside your window, sir."

He stumbled over to the window, and gazed out.

Outside, you sat in the grass illuminated by sunlight in your favorite floral dress, barefoot with your legs spread out in front of you and your arms held back for support. You had grown paler and skinnier, which had made it difficult for the team to talk to you. Every time they looked at you, they were reminded just how little time you had left.

But, sitting in the sunlight, you looked surprisingly healthy. Your skin was aglow, your eyelids shading your beautiful eyes that had turned light in the sun's rays. You looked so happy there, so content.

That was when Tony realized that you were ready.

Ready to go.

______2

The compound was quiet as you stood in the kitchen, eating refrigerated pecans from a bag. Since you slept most of the time, you were awake irregularly, which made for interesting meal times. You could barely stay standing now, but you were determined to hold on as long as possible.

The Avengers were gone, out on some mission. They knew these were your final days, but they also knew that they couldn't press "pause" on saving the world to spend time with you, no matter how much they wanted to. So, you had the compound to yourself (minus FRIDAY), and you sort of enjoyed it. You had spent most of your time in the past week with at least one other person, doing everything in your power to spend your last hurrah with the people you loved. But, the need for alone time didn't stop for anything, even the threat of death, so eating pecans in an empty kitchen was a welcome relief.

"So, you must be [Y/N]," a new voice said, and you turned slowly, still munching on the half-frozen nuts.

A blonde man clad in black and holding a gun aimed between your eyes was standing there, but you didn't feel the least bit scared.

"What're you gonna do," you giggled between mouthfuls, "kill me?"

He shook his head.

"No. Something much worse."

The world faded into black.

______1

"Is she awake?"

"Barely. We need her drugged, though, if you want to carry this out. We need her alive to carry out the experiment, and kicking and screaming doesn't exactly add days to your life."

"Right."

"Besides, she could die at any moment. Her body's like a... How do you say it? A ticking time bomb. She'll be gone in a moment if we're not careful."

"Well, we shouldn't waste any time, then. Start the machine!"

Clang.

Screech.

"Why hasn't she woken up yet?"

"Give her time. Her body needs to recover."

"You think she'll live?"

______24,589

You were drowning in light.

Your senses were overloaded with something, though you couldn't tell what. Everything was too loud, too bright, too hot, too strong-smelling.

You groaned, and waited patiently.

When your senses began to adjust, you attempted to take inventory of your surroundings.

You tasted blood. So you spit it out, listening to the droplets hit the floor.

You would have wiped your mouth, but your arms were wrapped tightly around your body, secured with a straightjacket and chains. 

When your eyes fully adjusted, you weren't met by any sort of afterlife. Instead, you were met by the blood-red HYDRA insignia plastered on your cell wall.


	2. The Cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you slip in and out of dreams, HYDRA attempts to do something to you. Though what exactly they're trying to do is beyond you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU everyone for all the love and support!! Due to popular demand, I'm back with a second chapter!  
> Enjoy 😊

______24,587

You had waited for an eternity in that cell, waited for some sign that this wasn't all some horrible nightmare. Though you were chained and bound by the straightjacket, you felt more powerful than you ever had. You felt more alive than you ever were. The weakness and fragility that had you feeling like glass was gone, replaced by a sharpness of mind and strength of body. They must have done something to you to keep you alive, you realized, but it was very unlikely that you were just pumped with drugs and serums because you didn't feel any sort of side affects. Then again, HYDRA was known for its "medical experiments", and judging by the massive crimson insignia on the wall opposite you, you were definitely being held captive in a HYDRA base.

You didn't know how long you spent chained there, falling in and out of sleep. Your world reeked of metal and blood, and it was too silent for your taste, which made for interesting dreams. But, between the nightmares, something much worse lurked. Memories.

You drifted off again, lost in the past.

_"[Y/N]!'" Clint yelled, and you spun to meet the gun of a chitauri. You slammed the muzzle upwards before the blast could hit you, sending it up into the busy sky where aliens and Avengers flew overhead. You swept your leg under your attacker's feet, using your momentum to wrench the weapon from his hand. He hit the ground just in time for you to shoot him in the chest._

_"Thanks man," you said into your comms, turning to look at the roof of a nearby building where the assassin was perched, loosing arrows from his bow faster than you could blink._

_"You're welcome. Next time, save your own ass," he quipped, and you lost view of him when one of the Chitauri speeders exploded a few yards in front of you. You used the subsequent smoke to cover your approach on another wave of aliens, emerging from the black and taking them down one by one. You were efficient, but the hours of fighting were beginning to take their toll. Your arms and legs were scraped up, and your bones ached like they never had. But you kept fighting._

_When yet another wave hit, you realized each one was getting worse. You were in the middle of a group of about seven Chitauri, moving around in a circle and using some beginner's Tae Kwon Do moves to occupy them enough to plunge one of your knives into their chests. That was the advantage of fighting aliens: they didn't know anything about martial arts or how to combat them._

_You were taking down the last one when another, much larger Chitauri yanked on your hair from behind and threw you to the ground. Your comm fell out amongst the rubble when your head hit the cement, and your mind was nothing but ringing so loud that all you could do was wait for it to kill you. But the winning shot never came. Instead, you felt warm hands wrap themselves around your body, and pull you close to a broad chest that smelled suspiciously like freedom._

_"Rogers," you groaned, eyes refusing to focus on your saviour._

_"It's okay now. I've got you. We need to get you out of here..."_

_Suddenly, the world seemed silent. You lifted your head, eyes finally refocusing, and gazed into the entropic sky where a single missile flew towards the wormhole, carried by Tony Stark._

You awoke with a jolt when the heavy iron door to your cell screeched open. In stepped a middle-aged man who must have been taller than Steve, built like a mountain, with a face that looked as if it had been chiseled in stone. He had a shaped black beard that didn't pass his shoulders, buzzed hair, and thick coal-colored eyebrows. His eyes were light brown and piercing, and his face was set in a smirk. He was challenging you, and you knew it. He wore all black (the typical HYDRA ensamble), but lacked a gun. No doubt he had knives hidden in his pants, but based on the tight, sleeveless shirt he was wearing, he wasn't packing.

"[Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Avenger. Retired S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Previously considered one of the most dangerous women in the country. Before we learned of the Avengers, of course." 

He began pacing the room in front of the HYDRA logo as if he were on parade, his eyes glued to yours. You glared at him, and resisted to urge to shift against the itchy fabric that restrained you.

"But that was all bullshit. We know that now." He had paced his way back to the door, and held his hand out to the darkness behind it. From the shadows reached a gloved hand, holding a Manila file folder. Your captor grabbed it, and began flipping through it while continuing his journey around the room.

"You were a level seven agent. Impressive, but not intimidating. According to these files, old S.H.I.E.L.D. files by the way," he glanced at you, and you suddenly felt like the rodent in a game of cat and mouse. You didn't like the feeling. "According to these, you were just the agent they happened to use for the most public missions. Blown up to be terrifying enough that if you showed your face in public, the so-called bad guys would start running. And yet, they let you on the Avengers. Why?"

He leaned against the wall in the center of the blood-red insignia, crossed one leg over the other, and let the file drop to his side. He was obviously waiting for an answer he already knew, trying to gauge how you would react. You kept your gaze steady, and tried to prevent your body from trembling in anger. You hated being restrained, but you hated someone playing with you like you were just a pawn even more. The mountain of a man chuckled to himself, and decided to answer his own question. 

"According to interviews, you just wanted to help. See a need, meet a need. Isn't that the most generous thing to do?" He asked, another rhetorical question. The mountain pushed himself off from the wall, and walked towards you in perfectly even steps, standing straight like a soldier. He then crouched inches from your legs, which were bent under you.

"Miss [Y/N]," he murmered in front of your face, which was contorted in rage, "you never deserved to be an Avenger simply because you lacked the power. After we're done with you, you'll have the power. But you'll also be a monster.

" _Do you really think you deserve to be an Avenger?" The level ten agent spat, his arms crossed and his face contorted in frustration from where he stood in front of you on the balcony._

_"I never said that," you declared evenly, turning to focus on the world rushing past S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters._

_"Look," he said, pointing an accusatory finger at you that you chose to ignore. "You're worth nothing more than any civilian. You think you're so great, level seven, but you're not. You're nowhere near my level."_

_You remained calm and closed off, letting him go on and on. He wasn't worth your time, after all. And in the end, he was just one of the many voices that had told you the same thing. This conversation wasn't new to you. He would talk and talk before noticing that you didn't, in fact, care, and then realize what a fool he had made himself. Then you could file a report and watch him lose his whole career without ever having to say a word. Even if his words got to you, you would never let it show._

_"You just flew right in to save the day when the aliens attacked, and now you think you're the bomb. The only reason they let you on the team is because you know Agent Romanoff. And the only reason you knew her is because you got lucky and ran into her one day. It doesn't mean anything. All you are is a other agent. Another face in the crowd. You're not worthy to be an Avenger."_

_And deep down, you knew he must be right_.

______24,585

A forgettable HYDRA goon slammed his foot into your stomach, and you crumpled in on yourself. Still, you refused to speak or even cry out, instead letting the pain leave you in the form of tears that streamed down your determined visage. He grabbed your chin, forcing it upwards, then swing his fist around to connect with your jaw. You heard something crack, and let spit fly in his direction when you felt liquid pool in your mouth. The soldier, now sprinkled with your blood, growled like some sort of dog and kicked you again, this time in the side. You couldn't lift your arms to soften the blow.

This time, when you fell to the ground in pain, you honored him by speaking.

"Is this what you call torture?" His nostrils flared. "Because you're sure doing a shitty job of it."

You were waiting for the next blow with a bloody grin when the Mountain stepped into your cell. He didn't look at you, instead focused on the goon who now stood at attention.

"That's enough, soldat. Time to go."

They left you in your cell, and the door swung closed with a bang.

Bang.

" _My popcorn!" You yelled, tumbling out of your purple beanbag and onto the floor. Peals of laughter echoed through the common room, and you glared at the various Avengers as you rushed past and into the kitchen. You threw open the microwave door, and a puff of pale smoke clouded your vision for a moment before you gazed upon the beauty of your slightly-burnt popcorn. Just the way you liked it._

_When you returned to the common room and plopped back down onto your beanbag, you ignored all their pleas for some of the treat, and continued watching the Disney movie that was playing with a smirk on your face. When you heard Thor mutter a pitiful "please, [Y/N], I've never had popcorn before," you turned slowly, mid-bite._

_"You should've thought of that before you picked 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves', huh? This popcorn is my only joy right now."_

_"I can't believe you don't like this movie," Rhodey said, giving you the eyes of disappointment._

_"Listen, man, those dwarves creep me out! It's all set up like some sort of horror movie, if you ask me. Little girl gets lost in the woods, suspiciously kind stranger offers a place to stay, and then bang! She's dead. Besides, what do we even know about the prince? Nothing! There's no build-up to it. He just shows up and we're expected to like him? Ridiculous."_

_Sam laughed out loud, and Steve shook his head with a grin on his face, though his eyes were still glued to the TV._

_"You wanna know what's ridiculous?" Tony asked from his position buried in the couch cushions. "The fact that you've complained the entire movie."_

_You rolled your eyes, and tossed a piece of popcorn in the air to catch it in your mouth. You would have made it, too, if Natasha hadn't spoke and distracted you._

_"You're all exhausting." She sighed, and you took that as a sign to shut up. She was probably the only member of the team who would actually kill you, and you weren't a fool, so you didn't take your chances._

_The movie played, the credits rolled, and by the time the screen faded to black, you were passed out, head tilted at an awkward angle, snoring loudly._

_"You know, if I didn't have so much self control," Tony said quietly, leaning forward out of his seat, "I might put whipped cream in her hand, and tickle her nose. But self control is certainly not something I'm lacking in, so I won't." He sent a pointed look in Clint's direction, and a grin split the archer's face._

_"Too bad I don't have your self control, Tony," he said, and stood up from the couch._

_"Yeah, real sad," Tony agreed, and got up to help find the can of whipped cream._

______24,580

You didn't know how many times they had come in to kick you like a dog, or how many times you had drifted in and out of consciousness. They never asked questions, just kicked and punched and yelled. You bore it like a champ, and did your best not to think about what might be happening back at the Compound. You just hoped the team was looking for you. 

You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but you also weren't stupidly reckless like most of the Avengers, so you had realized long ago that trying to escape from a HYDRA facility you knew nothing about was not a good idea. Instead, you watched everyone that entered and passed by your cell door, taking note of anything and everything you saw. You still didn't know exactly what they had planned for you, and, quite frankly, you didn't know why they were doing this. If they wanted some information out of you, they should've broached the subject. If they wanted to lure the team in somehow, the Avengers would have already arrived and taken the base down. If they wanted to destroy you or kill you, they would've already done it. Punching and kicking didn't do much to reduce your spirits. In fact, it fueled the fire in your chest even more. Was that what they wanted? To make you angry? You didn't know. You almost wished they would actually really torture you, just so you'd have some grasp of the situation. But they didn't, just kept doing the same thing day and night (or at least, you thought it was both day and night).

The Mountain hadn't come back in since the first time, just stood outside the door, watched in stony silence, then gave the order for whatever agent was kicking you to stop. He vaguely reminded you of someone, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

The routine was beginning to wear on you. You didn't like it at all, and the more time wore on, the more silent you got, simply glaring at whoever was currently beating you with calculated rage.

It wasn't until the ninth day of your capture (the date of which you learned later when reviewing the base's files) that you learned what they were after.

It was the same as every day: a lower-level HYDRA agent beat you while the Mountain stared on. You had fallen on your chains, hard, and you desperately wanted to move your arms to gain some semblance of control over the situation, but the straightjacket continued to hold you in place. With a frustrated scream, you pulled yourself up, and launched at the man. 

When the scientists in the next room saw the overhead lights flicker, they knew they had been successful.

The surviving agents who had been there would later say it was like you were a completely different person.

_You watched Dr. Banner from your perch on Tony's desk, your legs swinging in time to whatever ACDC song was blasting from the speakers. He was bent over his work, tediously placing tiny mechanical pieces onto a board of some sort with a glue that Tony had warned you not to touch._

_You reached behind you and grabbed Stark's transparent phone, clicked a button, and the volume in the room lowered considerably. Banner's head lifted and he made eye contact with you._

_"Can I ask you something? If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to answer."_

_He nodded, and leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders against the strain of his aching muscles._

_"What does it feel like, when you Hulk out?"_

_He paused, and watched you quietly for a moment, perhaps looking for some ulterior motive in your eyes. But you kept a steady gaze with him, and he saw your sincerity._

_"It's like... Every cell in my body changes. I get angry or scared and, I see green, if you know what I mean."_

_You chuckled quietly. "But does it hurt?"_

_"Not really. The actual transformation is beyond uncomfortable, but... It's not really painful. What hurts is waking up afterward and seeing what I've done."_

_You nodded slowly, and he could see the sympathy in your eyes._

_"But, you can't control it, right? So it's not your fault." He sighed, and looked down at his work, his glasses slowly slipping down his nose._

_"It's like, I've got one hand on the wheel, and the Hulk's got the other. I still have some sort of control. That's how I come back." He glanced back up at you, a sad smile on his face. "So why can't I control what he does?"_

_You shook your head, and your feet hit the ground with a soft thump. You walked over until you were leaning over his desk, and looked him firmly in the eyes._

_"I know you, Bruce. And I know you wouldn't just smash things because you felt like it. It's the Hulk doing all of that, not you."_

_"Then why are my emotions the things that cause it? I just get so angry, and all the sudden, it's like I'm a different person."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you liked chapter two!  
> Please let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate it!


	3. The Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something isn't right about you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies!! I hope you're all staying safe.  
> I know this is a bit shorter than my usual chapter, but I hope you'll enjoy it!

______24,576

You were curled in the corner, still bound, eyes squeezed shut to avoid the pain that came with the light. They had added massive flourescent lights to your cell, so many and so bright that there wasn't a single space filled with shadow that you could run to. They had learned their lesson. In fact, your captors had stayed away since the day you lost it, only a few of them in lab coats and bullet-proof vests coming in to install the lights. You had started laughing when they walked in; you knew their vests couldn't protect against you, and either way, you were too shaken up to attack. You just stayed there in your restraints, watching their every move.

You hadn't seen the mountain man since you lost it. He had shot you with a tranquilizer and disappeared. You hoped he was scared. To be honest, you were probably more scared of yourself than he was. Your terror had kept you in the same spot in the corner for days, wishing you could melt into the cold floor and just... not exist any more. This whole situation was too overwhelming. About two weeks ago (you assumed, but you had no idea how long you had been here), you were on your death bed. And now, you were definitely not dying.

While you drifted in and out of conciousness, in and out of dreams and old memories, you had nightmares about what happened. You would see short flashes, sometimes of the HYDRA goon, crumpled on the floor, his blood spreading across the concrete, sometimes you'd see the men rushing in to restrain you, sometimes you'd see the Mountain with the gun aimed at your torso. Mostly, you saw the shadows. You still couldn't quite explain what happened. All you knew was that you had wished death upon the man kicking you, and it had come in the form of liquid black reaching like tentacles for his neck. They had come from the corners of the cell, where shadows found their refuge. When they shot out from their hiding spot, you found yourself free of your restraints. You didn't know how, but the straightjacket lay at your feet, and the chains lay broken beside you. Then, you had fought. You had fought with your life, desperately trying to get past the cell door. But the Mountain had been faster than you.

The light from the new overheads was excrutiating, and your head throbbed with pain. Even when you slept, you slept in agony, praying for it to end. All you could do was wait, and hope that this wouldn't last. With each passing hour, you had begun focusing on memories in your head more, ones that were happy and far away from your cell. If you focused hard enough, the pain would become bearable as the memories played out.

_You ran down the hall, your heels clicking, arms wrapped around a thick packet of paper. Silently cursing your choice of clothing, you hoped your pencil skirt wouldn't rip while you were running. You couldn't stop to take your heels off, or to gather the papers that were quickly slipping from your grasp. You needed to hurry; the director had just asked you to be in his office by 9:00, and it was already 8:54 on the other side of the building. He had said it was an emergency, and that you needed to bring paperwork from drawer 12A in the fourth filing cabinet in the second storage closet of the North hallway. It had taken you too long to find the stack, so now you were rushing through the building, sweat pooling in the creases of your blazer. You were nearly there, though, just one more turn and--_

_"Hey!" A feminine voice said, just before you plowed right into its owner. It was like hitting a solid wall, sending you back. You failed to catch your balance on those heels, and instead fell over backwards onto your ass, still clutching the papers close to your chest. You sat there for a moment, bewildered, lungs heaving in an attempt to get some oxygen to your brain. They must not have worked well enough, though, because you sat there for a good thirty seconds staring into space with a confused look on your face before you managed to realize that a thin hand was reaching out in front of you. You didn't look at the woman you had just run into out of embarassment, just taking her hand and letting her pull you up, one arm still curled around the stack of papers._

_"Thank you," you huffed, still struggling to get air._

_"Couldn't just leave you there, could I?" The voice said, and you froze. You knew that voice. Lifting your head slowly, you gulped, and came face to face with none other than the Black Widow: Natsha Romanoff._

_She seemed mildly annoyed, more amused than anything, and you guessed that she was in a good mood._

_"You alright there, agent?" She asked, and you realized that your sweaty hand was still grasped in her cold one. You dropped it, and adjusted your skirt with one hand before crossing your arms in front of the papers once again. You lifted your chin, and struggled to control your breathing._

_"Never better," you replied, and she smiled. Smiled! It was more of an I-think-you're-endearingly-incompetent type of grin, but you felt pride nonetheless. Agent Romanoff was known for being cool and calculated; she had a reputation to keep._

_"Ah, [Y/L/N], there you are. So glad you could show up. Would you like a drink? Maybe a snack? We've got all day, after all," Fury said in a sickly sweet, sarcastic voice, just now emerging from the door to his office that you had been about to enter before you ran into Romanoff. You were about to make some sort of snippy retort, but clamped your mouth shut before you could say anything that would get you removed from S.H.I.E.L.D.. Natasha must have noticed, because you could see her grin widening, glancing subtly between you and Fury like she was waiting for you to get your ass kicked._

_"No, sir, thank you," you responded respectfully, straightening your spine. Pleased, he motioned for you to step inside._

_"I was just sending Romanoff to come get you. Please, both of you sit down."_

That had been the first time you met Natasha, and it wouldn't be the last. She used to say that she always knew you were a good agent, but your first partner mission was filled with apprehension and doubt. You had earned her respect three missions later, when you were captured by HYDRA and barely made it out alive. She had been frustrated, though she didn't show it, because you were supposed to take the base down, not run away from it. But you were both injured and weak, so she had practically dragged you out of there. Once you were about a mile away, you had taken a break. She wasn't talking to you, and you could tell she was pissed. So, instead of speaking, you pulled a metal rod about the size of your thumb from your pocket. It had a silver button on the top, which you pressed. The explosion that echoed through the woods shocked even the Black Widow, and you laughed. You told her how you had hidden relatively mild explosives between the layers of fabric in your clothes, and had placed them on walls or doors every time the HYDRA agents took you somewhere new in the base. Now, it was up in flames.

From that day forward, even if she didn't quite trust you, she respected you. And, dare you say it, the two of you had become friends. Just thinking of her made you smile through the pain of the lights in your cell. You so desperately wanted to be back home with the Avengers, away from here. The memories you cherished were worth diamonds to you, but they couldn't compare to being with your family. 

The pain began to consume you again, and you grasped desperately at another memory.

_The Avengers were all in the common room at once, which was a rare occurrence. Someone or everyone was always out on missions, or at a job, or with the people they loved, or desperately trying to get some alone time before the Defense Secretary asked them to leave again. But this time, they were all together. The best word to describe it was loud. Sam and Bucky were the loudest, and it looked like at any second Steve was going to hurl the Wii remote at their heads to get them to shut up and keep playing Mario Kart. Natasha and Clint were comparatively quiet, though Clint regularly started yelling louder than anyone in the room. He had absolutely no volume control, and you honestly wondered how he stayed silent during a mission. Thor, Tony, and Vision were arguing about whose girlfriend (Jane, Pepper, and Wanda respectively) was the best. It was getting a little heated, but the fact that Wanda was sitting there just laughing at them took the tension away. Tony was making an omelette and humming what sounded suspiciously like ACDC, Rhodey was standing there judging him, and you and Bruce were sitting at the kitchen island on bar stools, facing the living room, watching. It may have been loud and chaotic, but you felt at peace. You were with your family._

You so desperately wanted to be back there, so focused on holding that memory tight, that you didn't notice when the lights flickered off. All you could think about was how desperately you wanted to be back home. So, when you heard a plate drop, you didn't notice that, either. You were dissociating hard until you heard Tony's voice.

"[Y/N]?"

Your eyes flew open now. Taking in the sight before you, you let out a shaken sob.

"Tony?"

With that, he rushed to you, arms opened wide, and you fell into his embrace.

"How the hell did you do that?" He asked through your hair.

"What?"

"You just... poof... showed up in the kitchen."

"What?" You asked again, pulling away, just now realizing that you were, in fact, in the Avengers' kitchen. "This has to be a dream," you murmured.

"Well if it is, sweetheart, it's a good one. I had too much booze and now you're alive again."

Your eyes wandered back to his, and you saw the red that lined them, and the shiny trails on his cheeks where tears had found their path.

"This has got to be a dream," you muttered again. Except, you knew it wasn't. You had a great imagination, sure, but Tony's arms around your waist felt very real. Too real.

"What the hell?"

Your voice came out in a whisper and seemed to echo through the compound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUESTION:  
> Before we get any farther, do you all want me to give the reader a love interest?? 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed the chapter!  
> Stay safe and enjoy your time off.  
> Jeg elsker deg ♥️


	4. The Pen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're back home. But how?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Yay!!  
> First, a HUGE thank you to all of my readers! Last time I checked, this story had 35 subscribers and 30 bookmarks. I mean, wow! I can't believe it! And all your comments are so sweet and so encouraging. I love all the feedback that I'm getting!  
> I'm sorry for the delay on this chapter, guys. I've been having a rough week, and I really tried to write this chapter a couple days ago, but it just wasn't quite right. So, I gave it a couple of days before sitting down again to revisit this story. I completely scrapped the original chapter, and came up with this instead. I think it's much better than what I had planned.
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: I've decided, after taking into consideration your votes, my feelings, and the way this story has gone this far, to make Steve the reader's love interest. I'm still going to be exploring the other Avenger's relationships with her (as you'll see with Nat in this chapter), but Steve will be her guy.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

______24,575

Steve played with the pen in his hands, eyes focused so that he wouldn't have to watch the Avengers fall apart around him. Usually, he was strong. He had to be -- the team counted on him. But ever since the moment he watched you step up to the podium on his TV screen and announce that you had a month to live, he had fallen into shambles. Seeing you fade away was a slow and painful death for him. And when you turned up missing, with no logical explanation, it destroyed him. 

Tony had been furious when FRIDAY announced that her cameras were tampered with on the night you went missing. He spent days without sleep, tinkering with the A.I.'s system to try and find out what happened to you. Vision had suggested that, perhaps, you wanted to spend your last moments in a quiet place, so you had left. But Steve never bought it. Even if the cameras hadn't been tampered with, and he had watched you leave the compound yourself, he wouldn't have believed that you were running away. He knew you, and he knew that you wouldn't leave your family like that. 

No one really believed that you had run away, but when no evidence for a kidnapping emerged, doubts surfaced. The team frequently dissolved into yelling every day, torn apart by their desperation to find an answer that didn't exist. The whole time, Steve stayed back, choosing not to engage. In fact, most of the time, he actively avoided participating, watching, or even being in the same room as the conflicts. If the team noticed, they didn't mention it.

Natasha did notice, though she never asked. Your illness and disappearance had rattled her in a way she didn't know was possible. She had spent so much of her life being critical of people, and analyzing them from afar, that even when they died, it was as if their casket was just another bullet point to be added to her mental filing cabinet, nothing more. Death was a part of life, she knew, yet watching you die was different. For some reason, she couldn't just add another bullet point. She couldn't put a pin in her thoughts. They ran rampant, wondering if there was another way, or if, maybe, it was all an elaborate hoax. You weren't the kind of person who should die, she decided. You had your demons like everyone else, but you lived life full of wonder, and the idea of the world you viewed with awe taking you away from her hurt Natasha. Because, even though she had convinced herself that you were just another file to keep track of, you were still the only one who could call her Tasha.

Natasha watched Steve while the team argued and cried around her. He kept turning the pen over in hand, again and again and again. He watched it, his eyes blank, and she knew he was trying to be anywhere but there.

The pen, she didn't know, was a gift from you. You had returned from the grocery store one day in a flurry of rain-soaked outerwear and flushed cheeks, the pen raised high in the air. You looked triumphant, like you had just slain a dragon. Steve had stood there in shock, his offer to help you carry in the groceries dead on his lips.

"Steve!" You shouted, and the Avengers that were in the kitchen looked on curiously. "Steve," you repeated, out of breath. "I realized what the most important thing you missed was. While you were in the ice. You missed it!" Your chest was heaving, eyes sparkling, and Steve was convinced you had never looked so radiant.

"Yes?" He asked, eyebrows raised, cheeks pink.

"Multi-colored pens!" You declared loudly, and Tony glared at you from the couch where he was doing paperwork.

"Sorry," you whispered, not the least bit guilty, but significantly quieter.

"See?" You said, holding the pen out to the Captain, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You push whichever lever down that has the color you want to use. It comes with four colors! Black, blue, red, and green!"

Steve chuckled and took the pen from you. It looked cheaply made, with a tacky silver encasing, but he had to admit, the idea was pretty cool, even if not very practical, which he learned quickly after using it for the first time. Though it frequently became jammed, and he had to buy replacement ink multiple times after the existing colors mysteriously vanished, and the insides of his pockets suddenly became rainbow, he still used it. It was his favorite pen. 

"Hey, Steve?"

He turned his head to where Bruce was standing, leaning in from the conference room's door. The team went silent.

"How is she?" Natasha asked, echoing the thoughts of everyone in the room. They waited with baited breath in whatever clothes they had on when FRIDAY woke them up (in Clint's case, nothing but boxers) while the doctor attempted to keep his tears in check.

"She's okay. Dr. Cho said her vitals are better than they've ever been." Banner stopped, suddenly choked up. The rest of the team was, too, struggling to form words. Not only were you alive, but you were healed. And you were going to stay that way, if they could do anything to help it.

"Steve," Bruce continued once his throat cleared, "she asked to see you specifically."

Everyone's eyes turned to the blonde, who had stopped rotating the pen in his hand.

"Okay," he said, getting up slowly. His limbs felt like lead as he crossed the room, and followed his friend down the hall.

"I should warn you, before we go in there. She's not the same [Y/N] that we know. She's still her, but... There's something different."

Steve nodded, and stopped in front of the door to Dr. Cho's lab. Bruce gripped the metal handle, but turned before he swung it open.

"They changed her, Steve. They put something in her. She's... She's like us now. She's got powers."

Bruce looked scared. Confused. Unsettled. But mostly, he looked exhausted. Steve took a gulp, and nodded again, failing to form the words.

When the door swung open, and he saw your face, Steve broke.

You were sitting upright on the hospital bed, eyes wide. You were obviously on edge, but the dark circles under your eyes and the slump in your shoulders told the story of a weary soul. You looked shaken and relieved at the same time, but there was something else in those beautiful eyes that Steve didn't want to see. It was the same look he'd seen in every Avenger's face. The same look they'd probably seen in his. The look that Wanda had after Lagos. The look in Thor's eyes after he used his hammer to cut through hundreds of enemies. The same look in Tony's that haunted him every day since he first saw that missile sitting next to him, the words "Stark Industries" burning into his skull like a fire poker. The look that manifested itself in Bucky's eyes whenever he emerged from the fog of dissociation, straight into memories of the horrors his hands had orchestrated. The same look in Natasha's eyes when she watched her teammates and realized just how red her ledger was. The look in Clint's when he glanced at a photo of his kids and wondered what they'd think of him if they saw the trail of bodies he left behind. The same look in every single Avenger. The look that screamed "what kind of monster am I?"

Steve hated that look. And he hated even more that it had taken you hostage.

You watched him standing in the doorway, and noticed immediately how tired and sad and distant he looked. But you also noticed the light in his eyes when they met yours, and the way his hand clenched around the pen. He looked good in flannel pants and a t-shirt, you decided. Pyjamas were a look on him.

"Hi, Steve," you said, voice raw and broken. You didn't know how you expected him to react, but it certainly wasn't for him to let out a shaky, dry sob. He quickly composed himself, however, and managed to drag his feet all the way to your bed. He stood there, awkwardly, like he couldn't decide what to do. You cautiously reached out and swung your legs over the bed, hoping for a hug. He didn't disappoint.

Steve practically fell into your embrace, stuffing his face into your shoulder. Your arms circled his shoulders, pulling him close. You could feel his fingers digging into your waist, desperate to believe that you were really real, that you were okay.

"I'm so sorry, Steve," you murmered, cheek leaning into his hair. He was warm, like always, and he smelled of shampoo. You were happy to realize that he had taken care of himself. Probably under the pressure of Tasha, you assumed. When he finally let go, you spoke.

"Steve, they did something to me. I-I need your help. I don't know what's going on. I can't control it. Even Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho don't know what's happened to me." You paused, and sucked in a shaky breath. "While they had me captive, they beat me. Nothing I couldn't take--" you added, noticing the pain in his blue eyes "--but it pissed me off. I lost it, Steve. And suddenly, it was like a switch in me had flipped, and I was a different person. I killed those people. Every one."

You couldn't look at him now, instead focusing on the way his hand dwarfed your knee. 

"I'm a monster now. I couldn't even control it."

"What happened?" He asked, voice barely a whisper.

You sighed, slow and heavy, and lifted a hand. You decided before he even came in the door that you would show him what you could do. He needed to know.

When you looked back up at Steve, your eyes were an oily black. As the digits of your hand moved and curled, the lights in the room flickered. From under the bed, and around the shadows of the room's corners came a black sludge, bubbling up. Steve watched, and for a moment, he was scared. But then, as he shifted nervously on his feet, he felt the way your pen pressed against his thigh, and he instantly relaxed.

Through the darkness of your eyes, he could see you. And that made him feel safe.

_"[Y/N], I want you to meet the old fossil himself," Tasha said, motioning to the man who had just joined her side. His ocean eyes and slight smile that hinted at a full-blown grin were what you first noticed._

_"It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Rogers."_

_"The pleasure is all mine, ma'am. And please, call me Steve."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter!! As usual, please leave any thoughts in the comments. I love to hear your reactions, even if it's just a "oh no!" or "oh yes!"  
> I've got exams this week, so we'll see how updates go. I'm also working on another series, and trying to plan a third, along with all the other stuff in my life, so I apologise if it takes me awhile to update.
> 
> Jeg elsker deg! I love you guys very much!


	5. The Tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers learn a little more, and you begin to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ:  
> So, I know I said I decided that Steve was the love interest, but after careful consideration and many comments, I'm thinking of making it Nat. Honestly, I'm kinda torn, so I need your help: I'll be holding a vote. Please comment whether you want Nat or Steve (or someone else) to be the love interest, so I get an idea of what you guys are feeling. If you can't comment for whatever reason, feel free to email me at serendipityscribbles@gmail.com or DM me on Instagram @serendipity_scribbles  
> I will be counting the votes and deciding from there.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

_______24,575

Natasha ran her hand through your hair, and you made a soft, contented noise. You were fast asleep in her lap, and it took her back to the many many hours you'd spent sleeping around the compound, too exhausted to keep your eyes open. This time, you were strong, but she was still worried. Though Cho had found no remaining traces of cancer in your blood, the doctor was concerned that it could still return. They had no idea what HYDRA had put in you, and no way to tell how it would affect your health. But for now, you were okay.

The rest of the team was watching you from their seats in the common room, each lost in their own thoughts. Some were still in their pyjamas from earlier in the day (Clint, luckily, had put some clothes on after Sam made fun of his Captain America boxers), while others who had to leave for missions were wearing tactical gear. The one thing they had in common was the worried expression that clouded their features and danced in their eyes, taunting their tired minds. It seemed like forever and only a moment ago that you had been dying and now, you were back home. But were you? While they had been asking you questions earlier, the vacant expression never left your face, and they worried. You were usually so filled with life.

Occasionally, you would twitch violently in your sleep, and the shadows around the room and under the furniture would bend and pulse, and if the team didn't know any better, they'd think their minds were playing tricks on them. Still, you slept peacefully on.

"I wonder what she's dreaming of," Clint said, his eyes glued to your thin face. That was another thing the Avengers noticed when they saw you: you had lost a lot of weight.

"Why don't we find out?" Wanda suggested, a dangerous red light flickering behind her eyes. But she paused when Natasha sent a warning look her way. "I just want to help," she explained, her voice strained. "I'm worried for her. she's answered our questions and still we don't know what they did to her."

"No." Steve said firmly, his eyes never leaving your frame.

"Where is this coming from, Wanda?" Clint asked, and reached out to hold her arm. He saw the tears forming in his friend's eyes. Wanda sighed.

"I couldn't do anything. When she was dying. I watched her fall to pieces and all I could do was pray. Then, they took her from us. They destroyed her -- can't you see it in her eyes?"

The team turned back to you, and not one of them lacked the feeling of blood boiling deep in their hearts.

"If I can see her memories," Wanda continued, the red light mixing with the pain in her eyes, "we will know who did this to her. We'll know where they are, exactly what they did, and how to stop them."

She was angry, the Avengers knew, just like every one of them. They had all felt the pain of watching you die slowly, only to have you torn away from them at the last moment. They had all spent weeks waiting, hoping that some sign of you would turn up, only to be let down and realize that maybe you weren't ever coming back. They had all rushed to the scene when FRIDAY announced that you were back, only to be greeted with a scraped, bruised, bloody, and empty version of the woman they loved. They had all listened to your story. They had all seen the darkness in your eyes when you described the way you discovered your powers. They had all watched you fall asleep out of exhaustion, not from illness, but from the weight of the world on your shoulders. And they all wanted to show the men who hurt you exactly what pain felt like. But they were going to do this the right way, on your time, and under your jurisdiction. When you were ready, you'd help them take HYDRA down. But right now, what mattered more than anything was making sure that you were okay.

"No." Steve repeated, but this time, his voice betrayed his blank expression. Captain America was pissed.

"We'll wait," Nat nodded, her fingers curling around your hair. "We'll avenge her. But right now, we need to keep her safe and healthy. We need to be her family."

" _I just don't know if I was ever cut out to be an Avenger," you said, and Wanda's brows furrowed. You were sitting on a barstool on the kitchen island, watching her cook. When she turned and saw your tired face, she lowered the heat on the burner and left her bowl of pasta to sit across from you. You wouldn't look her in the eye._

_"Where is this coming from?" She asked, her voice sad._

_"Wanda, I'm not like you. I'm not like any of you. I'm just another civilian, who happened to get roped onto the team." Lines had begun to form in your soft face as you spoke, and it was like you were ageing before her very eyes._

_"I can't keep up," you said softly, eyes rimmed with red. "No matter how hard I train, how fast I run, or how closely I study, I can't be one of you."_

_"But of course you're one of us," she chided, standing and walking around the island to your seat. She placed a hand on your shoulder, and rubbed her thumb across it. You shook your head slowly, still refusing to look her in the eye._

_"I'm only here because of Tasha," you said, an evil echo that had been keeping you awake at night._

_"That's not true."_

_"Then what is? Why am I here? Why do I fight, when I'm just a burden?"_

_Wanda grabbed your chin fiercely, and turned your head towards her._

_"Look at me."_

_Your eyes reluctantly met hers, fresh tears pooling._

_"You are no burden. You are a great fighter, and an even better friend. You are here because, even when all hope is lost, you find it. And you kick ass, too."_

_Your chest heaved with broken, dry sobs, and your eyes stung._

_"Don't you ever forget it," Wanda said, her own eyes growing wet. You nodded, and she released your chin from her hold. You wiped your eyes with the back of your Stark Industries hoodie sleeve, sniffling and trying to hold it all in. Wanda leaned forward, and planted a soft kiss on your head before returning to her pot. She turned the heat to medium, and began stirring again, letting the smells of paprika and cumen float into the air. Her ears perked up when a small, empty laugh escaped you. It turned her blood cold._

_"I guess it doesn't matter," you said, voice hollow and broken. "I'll be gone within a few weeks either way."_

_Wanda's heart broke._

_______24,574

You stood in an empty room, your eyes traveling over its whitewashed walls. There was a single door, vibranium, bolted and shut from the outside. On its frame was a camera, pointed directly at you. You watched it for a moment, trying to focus. Slowly, your eyes shut, and you began to imagine that you were Tony's lab. When you opened your eyes, you sighed in frustration. You were still in that stupid, silent room.

"So, I guess that's a no-go then?" Tony's voice said over an invisible speaker, and you nodded.

"Alright, starting phase two," Bruce murmered, and you could hear him pushing some buttons. Before you could ask what phase two was, the lights in the room shut off, and you were left in complete and total darkness.

"Pitch, darling, would you mind trying again?' You rolled your eyes at Tony's nickname, regretting the many times you had forced him to watch "Rise of the Guardians" with you. It wasn't your favorite movie, but you had gone on strike against Stark's ownership of literally everything (including every streaming service in existence), rebelling by only watching movies that you owned the DVD of. One of which happened to be "Rise of the Guardians", which also happened to include a character who could bend shadows and teleport with them. You weren't too excited that Tony had named you after the villain, but he typically cycled through nicknames before picking one, so you hoped it wouldn't stick.

"Whatever, tin man," you muttered, and shut your eyes again, imagining that you were in Tony's lab.

"Holy shit!" He yelled, but this time, his voice wasn't distorted by the intercom.

You opened your eyes slowly, a grin forming. You were standing on his desk.

"Excellent job," Bruce said calmly, typing something on a tablet from another corner in the room. You climbed down off the desk, and flashed a smile at Tony, who had rolled backwards in his chair out of shock.

"Am I really that scary?" You asked, and Tony would have made a smart reply, but seeing you genuinely smiling shut him up and made him smile, too.

"Shall we start phase three?" Banner interrupted, and you nodded. You envisioned the testing room, sending yourself back into its darkness. The lights flickered on again, and you prepared yourself for whatever was about to happen.

"Let's see how you fight with those shadows," the doctor said, and you watched the walls around you open up.

________ Nazi Germany, 1942

Zola flinched under the gaze of his superior, hands wrung tight around the fabric of his jacket.

"Is our program not up to your standards, professor?" The Red Skull asked, dropping a file on the scientist's desk.

"No, no, sir. I simply believe that it could be taken to... greater heights."

The man glared and his eyes travel over the musty office, over the posters and maps marked with ink and pins, over the notes scribbled hastily in German or Russian or English, some notes about human experimentation, some old grocery lists.

"I am the pinnacle of the human race," he began, leaning forward, causing Zola to flinch even harder. "No, I am more than that. I am above human. I am perfect. And you suggest I can be taken to greater heights?"

The scientist quickly re-evaluated his decisions, and grabbed the file off his desk hastily.

"Of course not, sir. Forget I said a word."

The folder hit the bottom of the wastepaper basket with a soft thud.

It wouldn't be picked up again for another five decades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! I know it's a bit choppy and short, but I'm working on some major planning for this story, so stay tuned for some more exciting stuff!  
> If you haven't already, please please PLEASE read my comment at the top.  
> Stay safe! Jeg elsker deg ♥️


	6. The Necklace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Tasha begin to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is two in the morning and I have a class at nine, as well as four other series to write, what's new?  
> I know this chapter is short. But, it's introducing our new love interest: NATASHA ROMANOFF!!  
> The votes are in, and Nat won by over double the points. For all my Steve seekers, I'm very sorry. I hope you'll still stay for the story. I'm gonna try and focus on the plot and other relationships, too, so it won't just be Romanoff content.  
> If you guys want some more Steve, feel free to comment or shoot me an email at serendipityscribbles@gmail.com to request something! I have been receiving some requests here and there (two are currently in the works), and I will be publishing a new book for them within the next five days. So, feel free to send something (whether it's a piece of dialogue, a vague vibe, or a specific plot idea) and I'll add it to the list!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

_______24,573

_Everything hurt. The cold air had grown teeth to scrape Natasha's skin and eyes, pulling tears from their depths. The tears themselves stung as they made their way down her round face and dripped off her chin, onto her nightshirt. The necklace around her neck seemed to cut into her skin like a thousand knives and she tugged at it, holding it away from her bare neck. Her heart felt like a fire quickly combusting and taking her with it, leaving nothing but ashes. She longed to be ashes now, to float away on a stray breeze and never feel again, never be alive again. But there was no fire to burn her, no ashes to claim her, and no breeze to carry her. The air inside her room was still and cold and harsh against her pain, but she endured it. She hoped the shivers that wracked her body might put out the fire that burned her from the inside out. That she might be able to ignore the grief of losing you for just one moment._

_But she only became more miserable, sitting alone in the orange chair by her bedside that you used to sit in when you visited her. You'd always cross your legs under you and lean forward with a sparkle in your eyes, like you were listening to a story only you could read in her eyes, or like maybe you were going to tell your own. You'd always have the ghost of a smile dancing in those beautiful eyes, flitting across your face and she knew that it threatened to break free at any moment. You always looked at her like she was the world, and she always wondered, after everything you'd seen, how your eyes still glittered that way._

_Natasha held the pendant of her necklace in a tight fist, letting her lips rest on her knuckles. She closed her eyes and tried to forget how much it hurt, but you haunted her. It had only been two weeks and you haunted her. She could hear your laugh coming from every nook and cranny of her mind, and see your smile even from behind her eyelids. She could hear you calling her "Tasha" over and over again and it killed her, to hear such a tender word when she knew she'd never hear it again, not from you._

_"Tasha."_

"Tasha."

Your voice broke the redhead's reverie and her head snapped up, eyes on yours. You could see her gripping the necklace you had given her, and the way tears threatened to fall. It scared you, seeing her weak.

"Are you okay?" You asked dumbly, not sure what to say.

"Yes," she managed, breathing hitched with each rise and fall of her chest.

You were watching her from where you sat on the couch, eyes shifting from one thing to the next as you calculated your next move. A vulnerable Natasha was a risky one; any misstep could send her back into her mind, leaving you behind. You were barely awake, though, having just opened your eyes from another of your common room naps. To say your judgement was impaired would be an understatement.

"You don't look okay," you mumbled, and to your surprise, and she laughed. It was quiet and pained, but it was a laugh. She nodded.

"I'm just glad you're back," she admitted, and graced you with her classic half smile. You tried to find an adequate response and failed, again.

"I was thinking you were angry at the necklace or something."

You were lucky your morning voice and hair made an adorable combination because she didn't roll her eyes, but shook her head.

"It's still my favorite," she conceded, and released her grip to reveal the pendant, which was a simple silver "T". You had given it to Natasha on her birthday (though she still couldn't figure out how you managed to find whatever calendar still had the date), just two years after you met. You thought it was a great idea originally because you always called her Tasha, but didn't realize until later that she hated it when anyone else called her by that name. You had worried at first that she actually didn't like it when you used it either, but the way she smiled when you called her Tasha told you a different story. She never asked you to stop, and so you never did. She was Tasha to you -- a soft nickname that hardly matched the woman it followed. Still, it stuck.

Natasha noticed you blinking very slowly, and still not moving from your seat, so she offered to make some tea. You nodded and rubbed your eyes, stretching a little. As she turned the kettle on and got out your favorite mugs (hers was the one with the Paris skyline that you had grabbed after accidentally crashing through the window of a pottery shop on a mission in France, and your favorite was one with blue marbling that you had nabbed at the same time) and you swung your legs over the edge of the couch, hauling yourself up and letting your blanket fall to the floor. After doing some more stretching, you joined Nat while she waited for the water to boil.

"I'm assuming you want peppermint," she stated, and you nodded in approval, unable to speak through your yawns. She pulled teabags from the cupboards and dropped them in the empty mugs and you continued your wait in silence.

"What time is it?" You asked, finally coming to your senses. She chuckled and smiled, turning to the clock illuminated behind the stovetop.

"Six thirty. You're just in time for some morning warm-ups.'

You groaned loudly, slamming your head on the counter. She laughed. She knew you hated warming up. In fact, you hated everything that ended in "up". Wake up, get up, warm up, shut up, you hated each one. You hated giving up most, which was something she admired in you.

"It'll be good for you to get back into routine. You need to shape up if you're going on any missions."

"Who says I'm going on any missions?"

For a moment, Natasha was shocked. You usually jumped at a chance to help out whenever you could.

"We need you."

"I'm not exactly me anymore, Tasha. I've got this... New thing inside of me, and I can't control it yet."

She frowned at your sudden dip in mood, noticing the way you played with the skin on your nails.

"Which is exactly why it's good to start now," she recovered quickly. "By the time you've figured those powers out, you'll already be conditioned to start missions."

You tried to keep your pouting face, you really did, but when your best friend poured you tea and smiled at you so softly, and looked at you with those beautiful eyes, you had to smile, too.

" _I can't believe you stole mugs from that shop," she said, and you wanted to feel bad, but your internal laughter provided no help._

_"I don't even know why I did it," you admitted, pulling at strings on the orange chair. Tasha watched you from her perch atop her comforter. "I just saw them and thought they were pretty, I guess? I wasn't really thinking. Just trying to keep moving."_

_You knew she wasn't disappointed, not in the least. She definitely just thought it was funny, and even if you would later regret taking the mugs, seeing the mirth in her eyes was worth it._

_______S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, 1992

Alexander Pierce was displeased, to say the least. But he wasn't unreasonable, and he certainly wasn't stupid.

"Your great plan is to revive an old, throw-away plot by a madman? We're trying to put HYDRA on the map in a tangible, achievable way, Dr. Hull. Not chase dreams."

The man across from him, standing in front of the massive wooden desk, was obviously determined, or else he might have shrunk away. Pierce could see right through the fake mustache and bifocals, and he didn't like the face that greeted him, but he was once again met with a challenge; should he ignore Dr. Hull, he might fail. Should he follow through, however, things could go very, very wrong. The odds were, unfortunately, not in his favor either way.

"Mr. Pierce, it may be a long shot, and it may be nothing but speculation and legend, but if this file is right, we're sitting on a gold mine of opportunity. Besides, the least we can do is search for it."

Glancing through the file, Pierce knew exactly what "it" was, and yet he didn't. So many of Zola's notes were scattered and inconclusive. The secretary had little faith, but he also had much hope.

"Very well. Assemble a team. And don't return until you've found what you're looking for." 

Dr. Hull nodded, a smile gracing his features uncomfortably.

"Hail HYDRA," he stated proudly, and Pierce responded likewise.

Once the man had left, and he was alone in his office, Pierce flipped a switch and heard the intercom crackle to life.

"So, what was your verdict?" A voice spoke, barely discernable.

"I gave him the go-ahead," the secretary admitted.

"Good. Even if it fails, this project will turn out to be exactly what HYDRA needs."

"Whatever you say, boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I hope you liked it!  
> I'm struggling a bit under all of the writing I'm doing (well over 1.5k words a day, which is nearly triple my old rate), so I apologise ahead of time if it takes awhile to update. I'm recovering from being sick, and I have only one remaining online test, so (fingers crossed) the updates will start rolling in more frequently.  
> Also, thank you so much for 49 subscribers and 45 bookmarks!! It means SO MUCH!! I have been overwhelmed by the love I've received for this story. I can't thank you enough.  
> Jeg elsker deg ♥️


	7. The Bowl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go well, until they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you're all staying safe!
> 
> Yes, I know the second to last part begins with "____2". It's not a mistake.

_______24,568

After much nagging and calculated persuasion from Natasha, you had started running again.

You'd take to the streets in a blur of old workout clothes that came from a lifetime ago; before leukemia had destroyed you, before HYDRA had captured you. You'd run down whichever streets were the least inhabited, or whichever called to you. You ran in the mornings, before the golden rays of sun overtook the skyscrapers, so you often found yourself jogging through allies shrouded in shadow. Before your capture, you would've avoided them. But now, you felt safer in the darkness. Not only were you significantly more sensitive to light than before your capture, but you were also weaker. A month prior to waking up in that cell, you had ceased all exercise almost entirely, lacking the strength to do anything more than get out of bed in the morning. As you built your strength up, and your self defense skills were called into question, you were relieved to realize that the towering New York skyline provided many dark nooks and crannies that you could run to if you found yourself in a dicey situation. Maybe you couldn't yet fully control your powers, but you had done enough experimenting with Bruce and Tony to teleport back to the tower on command.

Today was much like any other morning. You had awoken before the sun and your teammates were up, dressed, and left with an energy bar. The Avengers' still treated you like a glass doll, as if you could shatter at any moment, so you tried to workout before they could remind you to bring water, bring food, wear sunscreen, watch your back. Today, you had managed to miss them, and the music playing in your earbuds was the only sound against the backdrop of a city shifting from its nighttime to daytime crowds. Sam always warned about listening to music while running, but you never cared. So you charged on, trying to pace yourself and take as many breaks as possible to keep from straining (though Tasha bugged you about exercise, she also wanted you healthy).

One such break brought you to the edge of Central Park, and you noticed an early morning food truck with some delicious-smelling fries. Not the ideal breakfast, but not bad. You ordered from the burly, bearded man in a dirty apron who looked like he belonged in the NFL but spoke like he belonged on a sailboat with all the cursing he did. You smiled when you paid him, and the way his face lit up made you wonder how often people took the time to talk. So, seeing no one around, you asked him a few questions.

"Do you like the food truck business?"

"Well damn, ma'am, that's a fucking question. I don't know, don't really give a shit, just gotta pay the bills, you know? As jobs go, it's not the worst, but I'd kill to be a fucking bouncer or some shit."

You nodded, watching him lean forward out of the window of his bright, shiny truck.

"Is the truck new?"

"Hell yeah! Just bought a new one after the old piece of shit finally broke down."

"Miss it?"

"Hell no."

Much of the conversation went like that, and it may have been mundane, but by the time the caffeinated morning crowd showed up on the scene and interrupted the relative silence, you felt considerably lighter. A simple, normal conversation made a big difference when your life was upside down.

You finished your fries on a bench by one of the Park's ponds, legs crossed, taking in the sounds of the city and the trees rustling and the occasional duck quacking. It was an odd, disjointed type of peace, but it was peace nonetheless.

You were jolted from your reverie when a man thumped down next to you, barely inches away. You turned to glare, but the murder in your eyes quickly turned to shock and trepidation when you were met with a familiar face.

"We've been waiting for the right opportunity to get you back. Just had to be patient."

It was the Mountain.

You wanted to fight him, to throw hands right then and there in the middle of Central Park, but you were suddenly very, very groggy. You fell into his arms, and though your mind was screaming, you felt the world fading away.

"We missed you," he teased, and it was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

_______2

The familiar blood-red HYDRA insignia floated before your eyes, but unlike the nightmares that plagued you under the stars, this was very real. The floodlights they had installed after you murdered the HYDRA goon were still there, burning into your eyelids, and you felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You didn't dare open them again.

The straightjacket and chains were the same, as was the feeling of the cold floor under you, and the stench of blood and metal. Even the screeching sound of your cell door opening. It was all too familiar. All too real. 

"You won't escape this time," you heard the Mountain say. You ignored him.

"The insubordination that eventually resulted in you leaving has been nipped in the bud. There will be no second chances. It's obvious that we failed with you, so, we'll return you to your Avengers, but not after we take what's ours. It's a pity you won't survive the process."

_______ Romanian border, 1992

The sounds of war filled Bucky Barnes' ears. The screaming, the gunfire, the tank wheels rolling, and the bodies hitting the ground. It was all too familiar.

The pedestal in Galati Park was only a hundred feet away, probably less. Surrounding it was a ring of marble, lower than the pavement, marked with benches and steps leading to the center of the circle. Atop the six-foot-tall pedestal was a massive bowl, carved with Romani legends and symbols the Winter Soldier had seen on another mission a long, long time ago, beyond where his memories reached. He knew what was inside the bowl, though, and that was all that mattered. But people kept blocking his path, desperately trying to defend a treasure they knew nothing about. To Bucky, it was just another mission, just another location, just another name. But to the Blood Malmas, it was generations of guardianship. They had been tasked with the treasure's protection, and they would die for it. In this case, they would die at the hands of the Winter Soldier.

When Bucky reached the pedestal, and the blood of its protectors dripped down the marble in never-ending rivulets, and the screaming and gunfire and thud of bodies had ceased, he fired his automatic into its base, sending the bowl crumpling down. Among the sounds of the surrounding park and the broken rubble was that of something glass rolling slowly towards Bucky's feet. From the dust of destruction and death came a single Mason jar, glinting in the moonlight. Inside was a thick liquid, bright blue, with the texture of velvet.

The Winter Soldier reached down, and collected the jar. He carried it past the HYDRA agents who had leapt from the bushes to clean up the mess, past the gate to Galati park, and eventually, past the Romanian border. It would be only a matter of hours before the jar sat on the desk of Alexander Pierce, who had surprised the US government an impromptu visit to the American embassy in Moldova. It would be a few days before the jar would be taken from its snug hold in a locked briefcase, before being shut away in a vault, to which the only key was in the pocket of the Secretary of Defense.

It would be another year before it was temporarily removed, and nearly twenty before it was emptied.

The last of its contents were precious, which is probably why HYDRA took such great care in recapturing you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Blood Malmas are not a real group, and probably won't show up again. The "blood" is based on what they're guarding, and "Malma" is a shortening and altering of a Norwegian last name.  
> Let me know what you thought!  
> Jeg elsker deg ♥️


	8. Saying Goodbye, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go downhill fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been an emotional day for me, so no guarantees that this chapter will be any good. Still, I haven't posted in too long, so here it is.  
> I apologise in advance.

_______1

Natasha could sense every movement of her team as if they were pressed up against her, hear every breath, smell every whiff of cologne and lotion, feel the palpable fear in the room. They wouldn't look at her, or the silver chain that rested between her lips, the "T" charm glinting in the light of her computer monitor. They didn't dare bother her. If they had ever seen Natasha this tense, they couldn't remember it. She stared on, eyes narrowed and focused, every once in a while brushing her fingers across the charm that dangled from her mouth. With her painted lips clamped around it, the thousands of curses in dozens of languages were held at bay, instead echoing endlessly in her mind, too loud to hear anything else, knowing only that she had to find you.

Each of the Avengers had a screen, watching for any sign of you, any indication that you were alive. But they had been like this for hours, and nothing came up. You disappeared completely. Even with all the cameras you had painstakingly planted in HYDRA bases over numerous missions, (hiding cameras and wires was easy enough, it was the attacks that took days or sometimes weeks of planning) they had neither seen nor heard any trace of you. In fact, most of the wires were virtually silent, and it seemed almost like the organization was calming down, which couldn't be a good sign.

They all took your disappearance hard, and though it had been less than 24 hours, they were already falling apart at the seams. But Natasha took it the hardest, and no amount of prodding from Clint would get her to open up. The fact of the matter was, she had convinced you to resume your running through the city, and so it was her that put you at risk.

She was so consumed by watching the monitor in front of her, that she almost didn't hear Bucky draw in a sharp breath beside her. Almost. But when she turned, she knew that look in his eyes. The same look after a nightmare, the same look after every time he encountered his past.

"Barnes?" She said, and heads turned. Bucky leaned back in his seat, eyes still wide.

"I think I know what they did to her," he muttered, and the team rushed forward in a flurry of flying chairs and stumbling legs to see his computer screen. On it was the view of a small, insignificant office, within which sat a middle-aged man with bifocals and a beard. He was reclining in his leather chair, one hand on his lap, the other spinning a mason jar around in circles on its side.

"The mason jar?" Steve prompted, and Bucky nodded quickly.

"We have to act now, or she could die," he said, and that was all Natasha needed to leap from her chair and dash out the door of the conference room. She had nearly made it to the quinjet, boots landing heavily on the ground, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her.

"Natasha, wait."

Steve.

"Let me get to her," she choked out, but didn't struggle. She knew it was no use.

"We need to know what we're getting into. Wait until we're all on the jet. We all want her safe."

Nodding, desperately trying to keep the lump in her throat from exploding, she wiggled out of the super soldier's grasp and stood waiting for the rest of the team. It didn't take them long to board or buckle in, especially when your face was so emblazoned in their minds. Losing you had ripped them apart. They couldn't let it happen again.

"That jar had something in it. Something powerful and old, something worth dying for," Bucky said as the jet ascended, swallowing thickly. The New York skyline disappeared beneath the clouds, and the vast blue sky welcomed the Avengers. FRIDAY had already set their coordinates for the base Bucky had been watching, and it was only a matter of time before they arrived.

"On an old mission," he continued, his eyes growing cold with the memories that weren't really his, "I was sent to retrieve that jar. My handler told me it was invaluable. When I reached my destination, there was a whole family of warriors waiting for me. They were ready to fight to the death in order to save whatever was in that jar."

There was a pause where Bucky flexed his metal arm, watching the machinery whir. Steve placed a gentle hand on his flesh one.

"They'd call me into this one office to receive special assignments, and every time there'd be a new scientist, but every time the jar was there. If I'd heard screaming the night before, the jar would be a little more empty when I arrived."

"What were they doing with it?" Thor asked, leaning forward, his hair falling loosely around his face. He shared a look with Tony, who was shifting in his seat anxiously. No one wanted to be stuck in a quinjet if you were in danger.

"I don't know," Bucky admitted, and more team members wriggled in their seats, uncomfortable. "But there was a liquid in it, something blue and smooth. And I knew they were experimenting on people at the time."

"They must have been injecting whatever that was into the test subjects," Bruce mused, hands wringing. He was preparing himself for whatever may come, whatever he might have to do.

"Makes sense," Tony said. He was fiddling with a tablet in his hands, no doubt making last-minute adjustments to his suit.

"You're saying they experimented on her," Wanda muttered, head lolling back against harsh metal. She was looking far away, past the walls of the quinjet, past the clouds that covered them, to somewhere the team couldn't follow.

"When Killian did human experimentation, most of the subjects never survived," Tony spoke as he continued typing furiously. "So, let's say they kept using that liquid, and it kept failing, but for some reason, it worked with [Y/N]. She escapes, which, in hindsight, must've meant they made a mistake. But she's guarded by Earth's mightiest heroes--" Clint grinned and Rhodey rolled his eyes "--so why would they go through all of this to get her back? They can't brainwash her like Snowflake over here," he gestured to Bucky, who nodded.

"So what were they going to do? She wouldn't join their side. So, she was a stepping stone. A way to figure out how the liquid worked. But it did work, if she's still alive. The only reason they could want her back is if--"

"She had the liquid," Steve finished. His eyebrows were scrunched in the center of his head, eyes sharp and ready to fight.

"They injected it into her bloodstream," Bruce suggested, and the team nodded, lost in thought.

"They're going to try and extract it," Natasha said. She felt like she might wretch at any point, but chose to focus on how cool your necklace felt on her throat, and the image of you asleep in her lap, her fingers tangled in your hair.

"She may have survived the first test, but she won't survive this." Heads turned to Wanda, who chose not to clarify her cryptic statement. Her eyes were filled with memories never spoken, and with the beginnings of a red light the team had come to associate with her powers. "We don't have much time," she whispered before going silent.

To Natasha, it felt like a giant clock had nestled itself in her brain, constantly ticking, reminding her of the fact that she had no time at all. She could lose you at any moment, and it killed her.

When the quinjet touched down outside their destination, the team wasted no time in exiting. As their feet flew over the pine needles that covered the forest floor, and their breaths came fast and hard, you were less than a mile away, screaming as though your soul was leaving your body. Though she couldn't hear your cries, the ticking in Natasha's head grew louder, and she could feel the hands of her internal clock beginning to shift closer and closer to zero.

_Tick. Tock._

The gunfire began, HYDRA agents emerging from the trees.

_Tick. Tock._

The team cut through them like the bodies were nothing. All that mattered was getting to you.

_Tick. Tock._

They could see the armored building up ahead, less than a hundred feet away.

_Tick. Tock._

You were so close. Wanda could sense you, and she called out to her team.

"She's here!"

_Tick._

_Tock._

________0

The excruciating pain stopped for a moment, and you breathed in deeply, slumping against the restraints that held you in bed. You cracked your eyes open now, though the lights in the lab where so very bright, only to see that the scientist who had been at your side, attempting to get his machine to work, had disappeared. You watched the doorway through slitted eyes and saw men run past in a flurry of black and red and silver guns glinting under the florescent lights. Only one slowed enough to stick his head in. The Mountain.

"Looks like we're not the only ones who have been keeping an eye on you," he yelled before continuing down the hallway, leaving you alone again.

You could feel a stabbing pain on your chest now, not nearly as bad as the machine trying to pump your blood from your body, but with each burst of pain came lightheadedness and the feeling that you suddenly couldn't breath. It was like your lungs were collapsing in on you. You could feel your limbs grow numb, and your eyes flutter close. You couldn't breath, couldn't move, couldn't even cry out. Everything faded into black.

You never saw Tasha come running in. But she saw you, limp, your skin turning gray.

And it was the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen.

_______0

Your funeral was a small one. Because, though the streets filled with mourners who had once been saved by you, the Avengers couldn't take it. They couldn't face those crowds without breaking.

It was quiet in the cemetery on the edge of town, where the brown grass grows tall and sweeps the sky as it catches the wind, and where you can hear the echoes of New York City bouncing off the hills. It was a bright day, and the hundreds of flowers Tony had ordered nearly smothered your gravestone.

_[Y/N] [Y/L/N]_

_A hero, a friend_

_December 1994 - June 2019_

Though her fingers traced the words, Natasha couldn't feel them. Her whole body was numb and her mind was detached. No matter how many words were spoken that day, no matter how many hugs were exchanged, no matter how many times she saw her teammates' broken faces, no matter how coarse the dirt felt in her hand before she dropped it over your casket, she was far away, sitting on her bed, watching you pick at the strings in your favorite orange chair. If she concentrated hard enough, she could see the little wrinkles in your face as you were lost in thought. She could see the light in your eyes. She could see the life in your body.

It had been days since they found you in the clutches of HYDRA once more. By the shattered pieces of a mason jar that lay on the ground, and the machine whose arms were stuck into your veins, they knew the scientists had failed to extract the liquid from your body. HYDRA wouldn't respect your grave, the Avengers knew, so Bucky called Princess Shuri and asked that she build a force field that would prevent them from trying to extract the liquid again. The genius agreed, and had something ready in time for your burial. It attached to your casket, and set up an invisible barrier to prevent anyone from digging you up.

All of this happened so suddenly, and if they were honest, the team didn't care about HYDRA getting their hands on the liquid. But they'd rather die than let them desecrate your grave. Though the deep chill of grief sunk into their bones and made them weak, the Avengers stood strong, Natasha in front, eyes locked with your name etched in stone. Just days ago, they had seen you, healthier than ever. Just days ago, you had left for a run. And just days ago, they had found you dead.

They had lost you twice now, but this time felt like a thousand bricks stacked on their chests. It felt painful.

But grief is a funny thing. And sometimes, pain bears strength. And with strength comes the fall of HYDRA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure y'all hate me right now but remember THIS IS NOT THE END!!!!  
> Thank you to every one of my subscribers, and to the people who have been showing me so much support (you know who you are), because your encouragement helped me get my inspiration back. Anyway, let me know what you thought in the comments below, or email me at serendipityscribbles@gmail.com
> 
> NOTE: I recently changed my art Instagram name to @lotte_art_ , so dm me there instead of the old one.


	9. The Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idk how to explain this one.  
> Grieving, I guess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I'm so sorry that my writing has been all over the place. I'm trying to find a job and just finished school and have been dealing with a flare-up in pain levels (chronic pain is no joke), so I'm kinda going crazy.  
> I hope you like this chapter.

_Please leave your message after the beep._

_Beep._

"Hey Tasha, I know you're gonna be mad that I didn't check in with you first, but I'm going on a run. I'll do warmups when I get back, and I won't be gone long, just wanted to wake up a little more first. I already had some breakfast, and I'll stick to the main streets. Don't worry about me.

Love you, bye."

_Click_.

The voicemail ended, and Natasha was alone again.

She stood in the same place as always, at your graveside, clutching the phone in her hand. She was still, watching the harsh winter breeze push the flowers that rested around your headstone. Most of them were dead, left behind by the public that remembered your days of life-saving service. But now, weeks after your memorial service, they had largely forgotten about you. They had moved on, leaving the Avengers in a confusing wake of grief and frustration. The team still visited your grave regularly, and if anyone got close enough, they would hear the superheroes whisper to you. Some spoke of their day, or of the latest mission, some described their last meal or played their new favorite song to the carved name that stood ominously in granite. But each one reminded your remains that they missed you, and though you weren't there to hold them, they could still feel your arms.

Natasha visited the most. Every day, in fact. She'd bring new flowers, but never replaced the old ones. She wanted you to know that you were loved. Though she never spoke like her family did, you never left her mind. If she could feel you next to her during every meal, every conversation, and every fight, then she didn't have to retell the stories when she visited you. You were there with her, she knew.

She heard footsteps and ignored them, as if the frost never crunched under pairs of feet and the wind never warned of the arrival of Steve Rogers.

"Natasha," he said softly, and she continued to ignore him.

She fought alongside her captain almost every day, and when they were on the battlefield, they worked in unison. But off the field, they'd grown apart, split in two by your death. There was nothing to be said to each other, it seemed. So she didn't know why he'd come. Maybe it was her bloodshot eyes, or the way she walked around like a zombie, like she had died with you. Steve always worried, but he'd given her space. Until now.

"Natasha," he repeated, "it's time to come back home."

She didn't hesitate before responding.

"No."

She'd rather be here with you than sitting in a room of grieving Avengers whose eyes watched her so closely. They all saw the way she looked at you. They all saw how only you could call her "Tasha". They all saw her smile around you, and they all knew that love was not something that grew well under the pressures of battle. 

But to have a thing so tender as love amidst chaos is an honor and a blessing, something Tasha had learned from you.

Steve sighed.

"You can't stay here forever, you know," he prodded, but stayed a few feet apart.

"I know."

"I guess," he blew air sharply from his nose and watched it form condensation in the air, "I guess I'll go back then. See you around."

He left so suddenly, so firmly, and that was when Natasha realized just how broken the team was. Though they believed she was lost in her own world, she noticed the way Clint still made coffee for two in the mornings. She noticed the way Wanda glanced up to ask you a question as she cooked, or looked longingly at the stool you usually perched upon. Tasha saw the way Thor was fixed in the corner, rarely moving, eyes far-away and beer bottles stacking up. She noticed how Rhodey, who tried so hard to be strong, couldn't always keep the tears in. She watched Tony shatter completely, so wrapped up in inventing that his occasional alcohol-fueled moments away from the lab were spent crashing in your room. She saw how Steve clicked your pen endlessly, and how Bucky watched, in turn rubbing his metal arm that you had once painted the colors of a Brooklyn sunset during a slow summer day. She noticed Bruce pacing, headphones always in, classical music always playing, rage always just under the surface. And it wasn't a secret that Sam had taken to only wearing the "Captain America Fan Club" hoodie you gave him as a joke one Christmas.

They each grieved in their own ways. But their mourning had one thing in common: it broke them. There was no more banter over the comms, no more pranks, no more Mario Kart (which you won every game of). They had lost you too many times, but this one hurt the most.

Because it was final.

Or so they thought.

________24,565

The sunset wasn't so bad here. In fact, it was beautiful. It's colors were a little different; mostly coppers and golds and purples and reds. But in the last rays of light, it was gorgeous, especially as it reflected off the waves ahead of you. The grass beneath you and the sun on your chest and the breeze in your hair and the way it ruffled your robes was so comforting. You wanted this moment to last forever. But just as you had started to soak it all in, you were interrupted.

"Can't I have one minute of peace?" You grumbled, still gazing out over the horizon.

"Not in Asgard," Loki chuckled dryly, lowering himself onto the ground next to you.

You sighed, resigning yourself to whatever he had to say.

"I've tried to contact my brother, but he won't respond. In fact, none of your Avenger friends will."

There was a pause where he plucked at the grass, thinking.

"Your grave is still covered in flowers," he added, and you almost laughed at the absurdity.

"Yes, the grave with no body."

"In all fairness, they don't know that."

"Clearly."

Loki snorted.

"So, I wait?" You tried not to let the anxiety in your voice rear it's ugly head.

"For now," he agreed with a nod.

"For now," you repeated. The dreams of the team whispering stories to your headstone still occupied your nights, still, none kept you up like the vision of the woman you loved standing over your grave, never speaking, never moving, lost in her own grief.

But no matter how much you tried to picture the tower, no matter how many times you tried to teleport to her, you couldn't summon the energy. You were still too weak.

And inter-dimensional travel is no easy task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chapter!!!


	10. The Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are unravelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just have a few things to say.  
> 1\. I apologise ahead of time for the quality of this chapter. My writing has been declining lately, and it's probably because my life is lowkey falling apart 🙃. I'm really sorry guys, I really do love this story, and I want to do right by it, but I'm kinda just spiraling atm. I promise it'll get better.  
> 2\. I know songfics are annoying, but it's only for the first part! The song is "Where The Lost Things Go" by Emily Blunt, and it's from "Mary Poppins Returns". It makes me cry every time I hear it or read it, and I just felt like it fit in. I know the mixing of song lyrics can sometimes make you want to skip over parts, but please read, since it's only a place section.  
> 3\. This is getting more and more steeped in Norse mythology, and I'm sorry about that. I really can't stop myself. Almost every single thing I write has some Norse references and I just don't know how to stop myself. So I'm sorry if this doesn't make a ton of sense, but I promise that by the time we reach chapter 12, all the mythology stuff will peter out.   
> 4\. I just want to thank my dear friend (she knows who she is, though I don't actually know her name, since we only chat through Instagram 😅) who has been so supportive of me. Just today, she checked in on me to make sure I was okay, and she is always willing to answer any questions I have, and to hype me up when I'm feeling down. So thank you, love, I can't imagine doing this without you.

________24,563

_Do you ever lie_

_Awake at night?_

_Just between the dark_

_And the morning light_

_Searching for the things_

_You used to know_

_Looking for the place_

_Where the lost things go_

If she spent too long in her dreams, Natasha could still see you sitting in the chair across from her. That orange chair, with the threads hanging from it, some braided in clumps and some yanked until they brushed the hardwood. She could see you play with them, delicate fingers weaving even more delicate patterns, and she'd forget that you were gone. Not that she believed it in the first place.

Natasha Romanoff had lost many people, and though it was difficult at first, she had learned how to cope. She accepted, grieved, and moved on in terrifying efficiency, but with you, she couldn't. She felt as though you were just away, out on some vacation, out of sight, out of her reach.

_Do you ever dream_

_Or reminisce?_

_Wondering where to find_

_What you truly miss_

_Well maybe all those things_

_That you love so_

_Are waiting in the place_

_Where the lost things go_

Sometimes, she'd catch herself staring at the places you once occupied. The barstool in the kitchen, the lefthand edge of the couch, the beanbag by the window, the table with the chairs where no one sat anymore, because they kept remembering the day you made a goodbye meal for them, when you were dying of leukemia. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the memories hurt too much. 

When the Avengers ate meals, they were never at that table.

_Memories you've shed_

_Gone for good you feared_

_They're all around you still_

_Though they've disappeared_

_Nothing's really left_

_Or lost without a trace_

_Nothing's gone forever_

_Only out of place_

Though they avoided your favorite spots, and though they couldn't find the strength to talk about you, each one clung to memories. The multi-colored pen, the "Captain America Fanclub" hoodie, the shattered pieces of an old snow globe, a couple of stolen mugs, a paintbrush, a necklace. All were dear to the Avengers. And all were kept close at hand. Maybe they refused to remember, but they couldn't let go of you.

_So maybe now the dish_

_And my best spoon_

_Are playing hide and seek_

_Just behind the moon_

_Waiting there until_

_It's time to show_

_Spring is like that now_

_Far beneath the snow_

_Hiding in the place_

_Where the lost things go_

The winter was exceptionally harsh this year. The snow piled up and frost coated the windows and the freezing air sent shivers down every spine. Christmas decorations were on every lamppost, every tree, but the Avengers' tower had a suspicious lack of decoration.

After all, you were the one who always strung the lights up. It was you and Steve who picked the Christmas tree. It was you and Tony who hung mistletoe when no one else was awake. And it was you and Tasha who handmade stockings in secret.

_Time to close your eyes_

_So sleep can come around_

_For when you dream you'll find_

_All that's lost is found_

_Maybe on the moon_

_Or maybe somewhere new_

_Maybe all you're missing lives inside of you_

With the chilled weather outside, the team didn't want to leave the tower if they could help it, even though everything reeked of you. So, they stayed in their rooms, until the occasional mission came up. HYDRA, they assumed, needed new direction after losing you.

It was ironic that the Avengers had the same problem.

Because of the grief, and because of the weather, and because of the lull in missions, they rarely left. Except Tasha, of course. She still visited your grave every day. But maybe, if she hadn't been so consumed by the pain of losing you, she might have seen the message from Loki.

_So when you need her touch_

_And loving gaze_

_Gone but not forgotten_

_Is the perfect phrase_

_Smiling from a star_

_That she makes glow_

_Trust she's always there_

_Watching as you grow_

Up above, waiting for someone to notice, there was a single Asgardian star glittering in the night sky. Astronomers were losing their minds, but even Bruce Banner could care less about the mysterious new body that had appeared overnight. 

If only they knew.

But though the Avengers weren't watching the night sky, someone else was. And they could read the message loud and clear:

_Find her in the place_

_Where the lost things go_

________ Kamar-Taj, present day

Mordo was silent as he crept through the library. Stealth was another benefit of the Vaulting Boots he wore, and he intended to use it. Though the floorboards rarely creaked, and there were few ears to hear even if they did, the library's guardian was surprisingly attentive, and the wizard didn't want to risk it.

The mahogany bent under his weight, but his feet continued to slide smoothly over its worn surface. The lights from nearby tables and bookends illuminated his path, straight towards the corner of the library closest to its entrance. Mordo might have used his sling ring to appear closer to his destination, but if he were caught, it might reveal everything. After all, he had no idea how close Strange was to the Avengers. If they found out what he was looking for, they'd know what message he had seen in the stars. There were many secrets involving your "death", but if one unraveled, so would the rest of them.

The cold metal of the chained books was almost welcoming, though Mordo loathed the idea of tampering with such old magic as was written here. The book he was looking for, bound in gold, slipped easily from its chains and into his ready hands. But not without disturbing the silence of the library first.

"Mordo," said a voice, and the rebel now stood face-to-face with Wong, the Kamar-Taj library's keeper.

"Wong," he nodded, shifting on his feet. The guardian's staff was stretched out, ready to fight.

"What are you doing with one of those books?"

"Just, wanted to do a little light reading."

In an instant, Mordo leapt forward and nearly ran head-on into Wong's staff. The round man immediately cast a spell that Mordo had never heard before, paralyzing him. Wong yanked the book roughly from his hands, and read the cover.

"What would you want with these legends?"

"Nothing."

But even as the candlelight flickered across the lettering, and the title flashed in the darkened room, chills travelled down Mordo's spine. And Wong noticed.

"Bodn, og blodet fra Kvasir," it read.

"Bodn, and the blood of Kvasir" was Wong's translation, and Mordo nearly flinched. 

Nearly.

Later, when Strange would read through the book for clues, he'd recognize a name: Malma. And everything would fall into place.

________ Hyndla's hut, 965 A.D.

Freyja tried to relax with the sounds of war echoing in her mind, but even Hyndla's hands braiding her hair couldn't soothe the constant connection with her husband, which forced her to relive his battles. Imbetween the harshest memories, Freyja would examine the hut. It gave off a very cozy air, which helped the quickly-developing headache subside. The torches on the mud walls burned bright, illuminating the small home covered in animal skins. The fur of her boar, which had once carried her on diplomatic missions, had recently joined as a blanket after a blight wiped out Asgard's livestock. Pendants hung from torches and couches and the various bookshelves, and Freyja wondered why Hyndla kept those shelves, considering she was all-knowing.

"Would you care to recite to me a legend?" She begged as the cries of war grew louder, and Hyndla obliged.

"Of course, dear."

The smells of lavender and marigolds mingled unpleasantly for a moment while the books on their shelves moved of their own accord, rustling and releasing their various scents. Maybe this was Hyndla's way of remembering.

"Odn, the Great, was killed long ago. We all know of his death. But not everyone knows what became of him."

The nearby fireplace crackled and popped, and Freyja could feel herself drifting in the familiar embrace of Hyndla's stories.

"His essence, his blood, if you will, was stored in three jars for safekeeping; Bodn, Odrorir, and Son. We couldn't let the ravens have his blood after all, because they already know too much.

"Odrorir was stolen by Asgardian thieves from the throneroom, and its pieces were found scattered across Yggdrasil, the world tree. Having tasted Æsir blood, Ratatoskr wanted more."

The image of the world tree's guardian, the giant red squirrel, flashed in Freyja's mind, making her cringe inwardly.

"So, he stole Son. He swallowed it whole, and found it unsatisfying. He would have swallowed Bodn if it weren't for the Allfather, who threw the last jar down the Earth. He entrusted it with the Malmas, a family of magicians who lived deep in the heart of the mountains. They still carry it to this day."

There was a comfortable silence that followed, but when the floral scents didn't dissipate from the hut, Freyja realized there was more to this story.

"Hyndla?" She prompted, and the ancient women slowed her braiding.

"I rarely tell of the future," she conceded, "but this involves your son."

"My son?"

"Yes, though he is not born yet."

Freyja lapsed back into silence, hoping she wouldn't interrupt the story any more. The farther Hyndla drifted into the land of dreams, the more she would tell, as Freyja had learned from a young age.

Her waiting paid off.

"A man will steal Bodn from the Malmas. A man with a metal arm and a mind as misused and torn as if it had been thrown to the wolves. He will steal it, and give it to a second man who believes he knows what it is. But none truly know the wrath of Kvasir.

"He will try again and again to use Bodn for his own gain, but won't succeed until he finds someone Kvasir's blood deems worthy. It will flow through her veins, and become a part of her, granting her god-like powers. But she will not know this. Which is why," the smell of lavendar and marigolds drifted away on an invisible breeze, and Hyndla's eyes grew clearer, though Freyja couldn't see them. "Which is why you must tell this story to your son. He will know her personally. So that he may save her. For she will not know herself."

Freyja nodded, taking in all that had been said.

But when Odin's family tree became tangled and ruined, she would soon forget the story.

And Thor would never learn how to save you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this chapter made sense! Let me know!  
> Jeg elsker deg ♥️


	11. The Bifrost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get to go home...   
> Or maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so  
> 1\. I'm sorry the last couple of chapters have been so choppy! With this one, I was really trying to get my ideas out and it made it feel like too much was happening, so I apologise for that. But I have a pact with myself to not let a chapter sit for more than 12 hours, so even if it's not the best, it's what I've got to publish.  
> 2\. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REREAD THE END OF THE LAST CHAPTER IF YOU'RE FUZZY ON THE DETAILS. Because there is no real recap about what happened to the reader, you have to pick it up from the bits and pieces of the story itself. The scene in Hyndla's hut and the rest of this chapter kind of explain it, but I'm sorry that I don't go more in-depth.  
> 3\. I can't believe it's already been a week since I posted chapter ten. The days are going by so fast! I know I'm not writing as much as I was at the beginning of quarantine, and it'll probably get even less since I start summer internship classes tomorrow and my job in a couple weeks. But, I still love these stories, and I don't want to give up on them. I just concluded one of my other series, In Loving Memory, so hopefully I can give this one more attention.  
> 4\. I'm really trying to prevent myself from publishing anything new, but I've had the idea for a Sherlock Holmes story floating around in my head for awhile, and I'm itching to put it on paper. Would you guys like to read that from me?  
> Anyway, I really hope you liked this chapter. Please take your time because a lot happens very fast!

________24,562

Thor's arms were wrapped tightly around you, and you could feel his massive form shaking with each sob. Loki looked on in disgust, and you wanted to glare at him, but tears were clouding your vision.

"I've missed you so much," Thor choked out, and you nodded, your voice failing.

You wanted to say something brave, maybe apologise for the pain you'd caused, but more than anything you wanted to disappear into his arms.

"When Strange told us you were alive," he said, voice strained and tired, "we all cried. So hard."

You nodded again, holding him even tighter. There were so many things you wanted to say, like about how you woke up in Asgard, about the long journey you had taken with Loki to Hyndla's hut, so high up Yggdrasil that even Ratatoskr couldn't follow you so far. You wanted to tell him about the hut itself, about the stories she remembered of the brothers in their childhood. You wanted to tell him what she had told you, about how you were a goddess, born of the blood of an ancient god named Kvasir. You wanted to tell him about your time in Asgard, and how much you had missed him. But all the thoughts were too much to form words, other than to ask a question.

"Did you see Loki's message in the sky?"

Thor pulled away slightly, arms resting on your shoulders, tears still fresh in his eyes.

"Not at first," he admitted. "But an ex-boyfriend -- I think -- of Strange broke into the wizard library and stole a book. Or, rather, he tried to steal a book. Inside of it was the story of Bodn."

So he knew.

"So you knew to check Asgard, because I'm a god now?"

He smiled, and nodded vigorously.

"Yes, in fact, you're like my sister now!"

You'd take his huge smile over tears any day. You found yourself smiling too, and from the corner of your eye you could see Loki struggling to hold in a grin.

"We must take you home!" Thor realized, and you laughed in relief of the thought of going home.

"Please," you agreed.

In an instant, you were surrounded by brilliant light on all sides, senses numbed to the magic of the bifrost. The only thing grounding you in reality was Thor's hand in yours, squeezing tightly. His other arm was stretched upward, holding Stormbreaker to guide you through Yggdrasil. Loki had been right when he warned you of the disarming effects of the bifrost, and though your body felt tingly, and adrenaline nearly caused you to panic, you chose to focus on one face: Tasha. In only a few moments, you'd be with her again, safe in her arms, and this whole ordeal would be over.

But you weren't so lucky.

When the white lights around you flickered off, and you were torn from Thor with a scream that made your ears bleed, you didn't have time to think, or to reach out. You were gone, flying through a black void, and though you struggled against it, you found yourself growing still, drifting off.

The next thing you knew, you were waking up to the sounds of metal hitting metal, and voices shouting in a language you didn't understand.

Natasha stared at the ground where patterns had been burnt into the grass outside the compound, shifting on the balls of her feet. She felt like she couldn't wait any longer, like every moment was in agony, like she might be torn apart by the pain in her chest in an instant. But she stayed strong and steely-eyed for the sake of her team, and because she had no idea what state you'd be in once you returned. Would you look different? Would you have changed? You had died, after all, and though Strange had reassured her that you would still be you, still be part human, she worried. What could the books know about you? No, only she truly knew you. She'd judge the situation for herself once you arrived.

But after minutes that felt like hours, you still weren't back yet. She could feel Steve and Tony hovering behind her anxiously, and the hope that had been blooming in the team since Strange barged into the compound was suddenly deflating.

"Maybe she's packing her things," Vision suggested, and Natasha didn't have to turn around to know how he was cradling a tear-stained Wanda to his chest. Each Avenger had gone through a whirlwind of emotions over the last month or so, and they were ready for this all to be over, for you to be safe at home.

But when the familiar rainbow light struck the ground again, and the team could barely stop themselves from running straight into it in anticipation, Tasha knew something was wrong.

The person who emerged from the Bifrost was not you. It was the god of mischeif, with a surprisingly forlorn expression on his face.

"Where is she?" Natasha demanded, whole body trembling in emotions she couldn't describe. Loki looked tired and guilty at the same time, and maybe even a little sad.

"She didn't make it, did she?" He asked, and the Black Widow flung herself forward. She threw him to the ground, and flipped his body so that she could wrap an arm around his neck in a choke hold, leaning close enough to hear his ragged breaths.

"What did you do to her?" She nearly screeched, and Loki shook his head quickly.

"It wasn't me," he insisted, gasping for breath. "Something must have went wrong. She must have landed on another branch of the World Tree--" he took one shaking gasp when Tasha released him, rising to her feet to glare at his recovering form.

"I'll ask you again. Where is she?"

Loki rolled onto his back, and sat up cautiously, coughing. "If you wanted my best guess, I'd say Sakaar."

"What the hell is Sakaar?" Steve asked, and Loki's eyes shifted from one teammate to the other before landing on Bruce, who had gone pale.

"Somewhere you don't want to be."

_________24,561

You wished you could say that you had shown the scrapper aliens mercy, but when they declared you as 'food' and ran forward, the shadows had sprung from the garbage heaps like tentacles and impaled each one before they could take another step. You weren't sure if you had wished it to happen, or if the darkness between pieces of scrap was defending you, but you weren't going to stay to find out. Instead, you ran.

Your training at S.H.I.E.L.D. had prepared you for many strange situations, but none like the -- planet? -- you were on now. There were millions of different faces in the colorful city, and though they looked increasingly odd and terrifying, when you managed to catch your breath in a deserted alleyway, you knew you'd rather be in this living festival of a town than back with HYDRA. So, deciding that it could be much worse, you took the time to assess your situation.

One moment, you had been hurtling through space and time and the next, you were here. Wherever "here" was. The city was relatively normal, but looked like a mix between a Dr. Seuss novel and a farmer's market. The buildings all looked a little wobbly, and there were colorful banners made of sheer fabric everywhere, and you laughed to yourself at the similarity to a Pride parade you had attended a couple years ago. The aliens (or so you called them) who walked past your alley were all so different, and you hoped that it meant that you were in some sort of central travel hub. If that was true, then it would be a lot easier to find your way home.

When a loud, slightly squirrelly voice seemed to materialize out of nowhere, you nearly jumped.

"Citizens! You'll never guess who decided to pay us a little visit! Please welcome back, the Lord of Thunder!!"

When cheering broke out, your stomach dropped.

Thor.

Had he been here before? Maybe. But either way, you needed to find him. Making a rash decision to leave the alley, you grabbed one of the colorful banners and wrapped it around your face to cover yourself. Combined with your Asgardian robes, you almost fit in. You pushed through crowds towards a massive skyscraper on your left. It was metallic red, with faces made of steel coming out of its... Hulk? Was that Hulk's face protruding from the building's side?

You were so lost in your shock that you nearly ran into someone else, momentarily losing your balance. Before they could respond, you kept moving, letting yourself get lost in the sea of aliens.

Natasha looked behind her at the figure that had just pushed past, clothed in light, navy blue robes that stood out against the dingy fabrics of Sakaar. There was something vaguely familiar about that retreating back, but she refused to dwell on it. Tightening the bandana across her face, she set out towards the junk piles to rendezvous with Loki.

It had been five months, and they still hadn't found you. But, if the announcement over the loudspeakers that Thor had arrived was any indication, you shouldn't be far away.

If only she knew how close you were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Let me know what you think by leaving a comment, your feedback always makes me smile!  
> Jeg elsker deg ♥️


	12. The Arena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader has to face Thor in Sakaar's arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies!! Thank you all for the sweet comments, I really really appreciate it.  
> I hope you'll like this new chapter, and that everyone is staying safe and getting rest.  
> I know my quality of writing is far from perfect, but I feel like this chapter flows a little better.  
> Anyway, thank you for over sixty subscriptions!! It means a lot!!

_________24,560

The arena was loud. They were cheering for the Lord of Thunder, not you, and though you had sparred with Thor many times, you knew this one would be different. Because this time, one of you had to win.

You had discussed this beforehand, when the same guards keeping you in the rusty, endless circle of a cell escorted you to the quarters of "The Champion". You agreed that it was better for the both of you to fight and have control over what happened, than to face other opponents that would easily kill you. Thor could handle himself, but you still didn't understand your powers, so going up against an alien with a penchant for destruction was not an option.

Thin fabric wound around your feet, and you could feel the sand of the arena through it, coarse and warm. It was a deep blue color, just like your Asgardian robes. Though Thor was on the other side of the colosseum, you could size him up from here as you paced. He had his own leather armor on, his cape torn, face painted for battle, hair trimmed close just like yours had been moments ago. He carried his axe (luckily, they let him keep it), and prowled the outskirts of the inner circle like he was testing his prey. But though the crowds screamed his name, and his eyes were full of confidence and calculating glances, you were not afraid. Out here, with the spotlights moving and the spectators screaming, you were immune to it all. The shadows that lurked in your corner would sustain you, you knew, and when you breathed in their cold darkness, you could feel power coursing through your veins.

Thor had sparred with you during Steve-ordained training sessions, and he had seen you use your power in the testing room. But there was something different about tonight, under the burning lights and watchful eye of the Grandmaster. He prowled, but you swaggered, eyes becoming murky and then pitch black, reflecting the thousands of lights above. But it wasn't those lights that he noticed. It was the darkness. 

Your hair became darker, absorbing the light around it, and from the tips of your toes and fingers, tendrils of darkness swirled up and traced your body in black, beautiful patterns. They weren't Norse. No, they were something else. Something older. No doubt, it was the same power that grew armor on you, which was revealed as you pushed your robes back in one swift motion. The armor itself was almost darker than your eyes, trimmed in gold stars. It covered your torso in one patterned piece, cupping your breasts closely and revealing more of the black tendrils that drew across your chest. On the shoulder pads that stuck out from under your robes, the golden stars that studded every other piece had extra spikes, small but terrifying, somehow. Your thighs were wrapped in the same armor, and the shin guards that stopped above your ballet socks barely hid the fact that your legs were almost completely black, consumed by your power. 

The same power that gave you armor and strength provided your weapon, a wide blade that grew from the palm of your hand. It glowed golden under the light, but when that light wasn't on it, it nearly vanished in the darkness. This wasn't just any weapon, and maybe Hyndla had once told Thor of its power, but he couldn't remember. Even though you were his friend, he found himself wanting the wise woman's teachings again, so that he might know what he was up against.

When the trumpet sounded, the spectators held their breath, and the world grew silent. In the stands, Loki clutched the corner of his robes tighter and glanced cautiously at Tasha, whose eyes were glued to you. She had found you, yes, but this wasn't the same woman who had gone for a run five months ago and never returned. The god of mischeif explained earlier that time passed differently here, and that since Thor had just arrived, the chances were that you had as well. But looking at your darkened eyes, and the way the shadows of the arena swirled at your fingertips, she wondered if you had really been here for much, much longer.

Each breath was slow for you, calculated. Each shift of your weight was controlled, and each glance was cold. You were numb to everything but the fight.

Thor struck first.

The shadows whispered in your ear that he was afraid, and you almost wished he wasn't. But he needed to be afraid. Needed to show some weakness. Because, if you failed, this wouldn't work.

You had made a promise, one not even Thor knew. He assumed you had been brought in by a scrapper, but that wasn't true. In the darkened corners of an alley at twilight you had promised a fight in exchange for your friend's life. You had promised you would bring him near death, make it appear as such, then take your leave as though you had escaped. You would take him with you, and everything would be alright. Out of the Grandmaster's custody, you could hide and find a way out. But Thor knew nothing of this, only that he had to fight you and make it look real. Oh it would be real, all right.

Before his axe could collide with your chest, you blocked it. It ricocheted off with a _clang,_ and the crowds erupted. Not that either of you noticed.

You swung, and Thor tried to move out of the way, unbalancing himself. You took the opportunity to sweep his feet out from under him, but Thor was no simple opponent. He quickly rose again, buoyed by his own power. His eyes grew bright and his hands crackled to life and before you knew it, you were thrown back. The crowd cheered.

But they weren't shouting his name for long before you screeched, hands shooting forward, directing the oily black tentacles that formed from the shadows and chased after him. He attempted to deflect them with Stormbreaker one by one, but you were relentless.

"My word, she's going to kill him," Loki realized, and Tasha shook her head. She had seen the look on your face before the darkness overcame your eyes, the one of acceptance and resignation, the one that proved there was a master plan at work.

She reached out to grasp Loki, to keep him from intervening, but her hands went straight through his. The apparition that had been accompanying her vanished, and she was left to try and find him in the crowd. 

Before Natasha could do anything, though, a gasp went through the spectators. You were on the ground, convulsing, hands desperately grasping at a spot in your shoulder from where electricity shot out. With each spasm, your armor fell apart, and your blade flickered away, and the shadows returned to their spots in the darkness.

Thor could only watch, suspended by the targeted beam of a drone.

As your body was dragged through the blue sand, robes torn and scorched, Tasha desperately wanted to do something. But she knew it wouldn't help, knew there was nothing she could do to stop it all.

Except maybe smack Loki.

And smack Loki she did, hours later, when the nearest star had vanished below the horizon and the streets were empty.

"Ow!" He whined, clutching his face.

"Grow up," she scowled at him.

"I saved Thor's life! He's your teammate! I believe thanks are in order."

"[Y/N] had it under control. She had a plan and you screwed it up all because you couldn't stop and pay atten--"

"Tasha?"

Your voice was quiet and unsure, but it was music to her ears.

You had stepped under the streetlights of the quiet city, feet bare and raw, tucked away in destroyed robes. Natasha wasn't sure how you found your way out of the Grandmaster's custody, and found her in the city in the dead of night, but it didn't matter because you were here.

You were here.

"Tasha?" You asked again, this time a little louder. She surged forward, and wrapped you in her arms before you could protest. But you didn't. You snuggled close to her, letting your forehead find it's place against her neck and your nose rest along her collarbone, your small arms still clutching your clothing. She held you so tightly, so warmly, and her familiar scent washed over you in comforting waves.

"[Y/N]," she choked out, voice wavering more than she cared to admit, her own nose buried in your cropped hair. You were real, so real, and she wanted to hold on forever so that they could never take you from her again.

But you needed to breath, so she released you enough to look at your face.

You were exhausted, eyes puffy and red, warpaint and tears smeared across every feature like some sort of desperate work of art. But you were a work of art to her, despite everything.

"I missed you," she admitted, and you nodded wordlessly.

"I haven't been gone long," you managed to joke, but she frowned.

"It's been almost six months."

"What?"

"Time passes differently he-EEERE!" Loki screeched as he found himself bound by the shadows he had just earlier been using to hide, and one glance into your eyes told him all he needed to know. You were pissed. Though you didn't break from Tasha's grasp, you spoke.

"I had everything under control. I made a deal that would get both me and Thor home safely, but you screwed it all up. Now, we're going to have to break Thor out." It was a quiet anger that consumed you, but a brilliant one nonetheless.

"Not now, moya luyabov," your best friend murmered, and you released the god of mischeif. He stumbled on his feet for a moment before dusting himself off with a nod.

When the pair led you back to the slums of Sakaar, you were apprehensive, but you desperately needed sleep. So you let them, holding on to Tasha's hand the entire time until you entered a small house below ground. It had two rooms, one a kitchen, dining room, living room, and one bedroom combination, and there was another bedroom through a second door. Luckily, the bathroom was to your right.

"[Y/N] and I get the bedroom," Natasha ordered quickly, and though Loki might normally have tried to negotiate his way, he had seen how black your eyes got when you trapped him, and he didn't want to revisit that feeling of fear, so he decided a resigned shrug was sufficient.

You had slept in the same bed with your friend on many missions, but it was rarely personal, no matter how close you were. It was always solely about sleeping so that you could complete the mission. But now, as you burrowed under the covers and longed for the comfort of the woman you loved, Tasha broke an unspoken rule and wrapped you in her arms. You were close, noses not quite touching, your eyelids drifting more and more close with each passing second that she caressed your hair.

"Short hair is a good look on you," she said quietly, and you drifted off with a smile.

She could have watched you all night, but Tasha knew it would only be worse in the morning if she let herself get carried away.

You were her friend, she reminded herself. Nothing more.


	13. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you read the title? Then you know what happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo I have no idea where I'm going with this. None at all. But I'm having a good time, so I guess that's enough? I'd appreciate any ideas y'all have tho because I'm kinda lost.  
> Anyway my chapters are getting longer, which is good! I used to sit down and only write 500 words but now I'm doing 2k without thinking so I guess a year of fanfiction writing really does help.  
> I hope you like this!

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Natasha wished she had the strength to let go of you. To stop stroking your hair, to stop rubbing little patterns on your arm, to stop pulling you impossibly close. But you just snuggled in closer, breath fanning out against her collar bone, whole body tucked into hers like two pieces of a puzzle that were never meant to be apart. 

She had always seen you as strong, always let you go your own way and trusted you to complete whatever task was at hand. But in the moments off the field, she was always surprised at how soft you became. You relaxed and suddenly, though you were still the same warrior, you had this air of quiet joy about you, and you became more at peace. Instead of charging into battle screaming, you were picking at the strings on her chair. Instead of landing blow after blow in enemy bodies, you were lying on the floor, watching her tell you stories about Budapest and Lesbon and Paris and Bogóta. Instead of firing a gun with the accuracy and coolness of an assassin, you were calling her Tasha and laying your head in her lap. It was those moments that Natasha most cherished, when she could soak in your presence.

Here, now, with your form tucked into hers and your whole being relaxed in her arms, she felt a tug in two directions. One reminded her that this was dangerous, that attachments were dangerous, that trusting was dangerous, that love was dangerous. But the other need only remind her of the smell of your faded shampoo and the way you murmered your nickname for her as you cuddled close, and the way your body fit so perfectly with hers. She wanted to let go of you, she really did, but she realized that maybe letting go of you would hurt so much worse than anything else. This was her chance. If she had fallen for anyone else, maybe logic would have taken over. But with you, all her concerns spoke against themselves.

What if you didn't love her back? 

It didn't matter, because you weren't one to forget people, even if they made you feel a little uneasy.

What if the two of you didn't work out?

She already knew it could work. You'd been friends for too long, been through too much together to think that it wouldn't work.

What if you got hurt because someone wanted to target her?

You were already an Avenger yourself, and had been for some time, and you could definitely deck anyone who tested you.

What if you betrayed her?

No, Natasha shook that thought from her mind. You weren't like that. She had known you for years now, and she knew what kind of person you were. You would never hurt her intentionally. She wanted to think of something else, some other excuse to let you go, but nothing fit like you did with her. There wasn't a question that could shift your place in her heart and it scared her.

"Tasha." You shifted slightly in her arms, but by the way you murmered her name, Natasha knew you were still asleep. She pulled you even closer and heard you sigh contentedly.

It was in that moment that she knew.

If looks could kill, the glare you were sending the Grandmaster would have turned his blood to ice and his feet to lead long ago. But he was unfazed, though slightly put off.

"It wasn't my fault," you said grumpily, restraining yourself from either stomping your foot like a toddler or punching the Grandmaster directly in the face. "Loki interrupted the fight. And we had an agreement! I fight Thor, he loses, I take him home and make it look like one champion is dead, and the other escaped. I can still do it, I just need a second chance."

The Grandmaster's eyebrow lifted and he leaned against the massive windowsill, eyeing you up and down with a slight look of amusement and... disgust?

"As much as I enjoyed your little, shall we say, scuffle, out there, you just don't have... It."

"It?"

"Yes, 'it'. You're powerful sure, sure, but you don't have the level of pizaz--" he threw his fingers in the air and wiggled them-- "that I'm looking for. But you can understand."

"No, I can't." You were getting redder and more pissed off by the second. You just wanted to get out of this giant room with its creepy vases and jars and weapons covered in blood, you wanted to go back to where Tasha and Loki were waiting and go get Thor, you wanted to go home. God, you wanted to go home.

"Let me explain it this way," the Grandmaster said, throwing a leg up on the windowsill and wiggling his fingers again for good measure, their rings catching the light. "Fighting is entertainment. But you and Lord of Thunder, well, you're not exactly evenly matched. Now, Lord of Thunder and the Hulk, that was interesting. But you, you can just tie the Lord of Thunder down and -- now, I'm not being kinky -- you could just kill him! Like that! And that's not good for business. No, I wouldn't put you up against any of my warriors. If you want to take him back, you'll have to find someone else to finish the job."

"But-"

"Uh buh buh buh, is that talking I hear?" He cupped his hand to his ear.

You shook your head, sent him another glare, and stormed out of the trophy room in a fury. You could feel the shadows shift around you, preparing for a fight, so you attempted to control your breathing, and hoped that you wouldn't lose control. When you rounded a last corner, and into the sunlight, you wasted no time in returning to the slums. You had to take a detour to avoid a creepy, particularly handsy alien you had run into on the way to the Grandmaster's palace, but made it in record time with the angry pumping of your legs.

Tasha and Loki were sitting in the main room of the apartment they had rented, eyes locked on the door you had just entered through. They knew automatically that you hadn't gotten Thor back. Loki cursed, and stood with a flurry of his cape.

"Perhaps if I-"

"Wait. He said we need to pick someone else to fight Thor, probably someone who's more evenly matched."

"So me, obviously."

You and Natasha rolled your eyes, but it was already agreed without having to be said. You, according to the Grandmaster, were too powerful. And Natasha had no power to protect her from one of Thor's electrical blasts, which made Loki the next best candidate.

"Okay," you breathed, and huffed all the way to the questionably sturdy couch where Natasha was sitting, legs crossed, leaned back against the arm. 

"So it's decided then." You didn't like Loki's grin as he said that, but there was no choice.

"Unfortunately for us, yes," Tasha said, and you smiled humorously at her from where you were now sunken into the cushions.

"Well, I best get going!" He said all too cheerfully, and was gone before you could even say goodbye.

"He's going to get us killed," Natasha said dryly, and you laughed. 

"No doubt about it."

There was a comfortable silence that followed, and an uncertainty of what to do next. Up until this point, there had been some task to complete. Once you had woken up (Natasha had already left to scout out the Grandmaster's prison cells), you immediately left to meet with the man himself. But now, all that was left to do was wait for Loki to reach an agreement, then go and watch the brothers fight. You didn't like entrusting Thor's life with Loki, because even if he loved his brother, the original agreement was still to nearly kill the god of thunder, and you were worried for the pain that his brother might inflict on him.

"[Y/N]?" Tasha broke you from your thoughts and you smiled, focusing in on her. She was leaning forward now, a strange look on her face that you'd never seen before.

"Yeah?"

"Do you love me?"

The bluntness of the question startled you a bit. You weren't sure why she was asking, and suddenly you found yourself very, very nervous. Did she know how you felt about her? Had you talked in your sleep? Was she unsure that she could trust you all of a sudden? Was she interrogating you? The questions swirled madly in your mind but came to a screeching halt when her hand brushed yours. You nearly jumped, but managed to compose yourself and refocus on reality. You let her drag her nails across the palm of your hand soothingly and relaxed a little. It was only Tasha.

"Yes." You stated quickly, hoping she'd take that whichever way she wanted. She nodded, quietly, slowly, and you could see the gears in her brain turning. When she didn't respond, you found yourself filling the silence nervously.

"Of course I do. I love you very much. I don't mean that in a creepy way I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable, that's okay. I mean, maybe it doesn't make you uncomfortable I mean you and Clint are so close I just mean, you know, you're obviously not scared of some affection -- God that sounded bad -- I just don't want to freak you out, I mean, I do love you, because you're awesome and you're Tasha and I've always had this thing for you -- SHIT!"

You hadn't meant to let that slip. In your ramblings, you had failed to contain the one part of your love that couldn't be revealed -- the romance. You were friends, nothing else. Natasha couldn't love you like that, you knew, she was too perfect. 

"What?"

She had an eyebrow arched curiosly, and a smile on her face unlike anything you had ever seen before. Her eyes practically glittered as you struggled to find the words.

"I wasn't supposed to say that," you laughed nervously, letting your head drop and gathered your hands in your lap, away from hers, trying to stop your heart from beating so wildly. But it was no use.

When you felt Tasha's hand on your chin you looked up, right in to her beautiful big eyes that were gazing at you so tenderly. This time, you could read them, the love and the fear and the excitement, all dancing in her retina like a language only you could understand. You knew those emotions, though you didn't know why she was feeling them, or why she was so, so close...

She leaned in just slightly, almost imperceptibly, the fear in her eyes growing. As if on instinct, as if pulled in by some force that was greater than you, you let your eyes flutter closed and your body relax, leaning in just a touch more.

You could feel her breath on your lips and her nose so close to yours, barely brushing, and it drove you crazy. So you closed the small distance and let your lips just skim hers, so subtly that it almost wasn't there. That was all it took for Natasha, though. She moved the hand that had been on your chin to your hair, pulling you in to a deep kiss. Your lips melded together and you reached out too, grasping at her waist. The kiss was slow and smooth and you could feel lightning break down your spine. You shivered just slightly as she bit down on your bottom lip, and finally claimed a firm grip on her hips. You lifted yourself up, lips still locked with hers, and slipped onto her lap smoothly, legs coming to rest on either side of her. She hummed softly, hands still running across your shaved head, lips still kissing greedily like she couldn't get enough. You pushed forward, leaning her back just enough to get the perfect angle. 

And it was in that moment that Loki decided to barge in.

"I don't mean to interrupt-" You broke apart quickly, nearly flying across the couch in surprise-- "but it appears as though the Grandmaster has changed the keys on his doors. I'll need a new passcode to get inside."

You laughed nervously, and quickly clambered off the couch on shaky legs to grab a pen from the (coffee table??) thing in the middle of the room. You stuck your hand out wordlessly and Loki's arm dropped into it so you could write the new password in ink.

"Thank you. Carry on!"

And he was gone again, that infuriating smirk on his face. You stood there for a moment, trying to compose yourself, when you heard Natasha get up. She padded over to you and you unconsciously leaned backwards toward her. Without a word she wrapped her arms around your waist and you relaxed, settling into her embrace. When she whispered in your ear, you felt your whole body catch on fire.

"Why don't we carry on like the maniac suggested?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It finally happened!! It only took thirteen chapters lol  
> What do you guys think??


	14. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally escape Sakaar. But where are you now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! A few notes on this chapter:  
> 1\. If you've never watched Sweet Home Alabama, please look up what sand does when it's struck by lightning. This is mentioned in the Champion's quarters, and I just wanted to make sure everyone understood.  
> 2\. Jeg er trygg means "I'm safe", and hjem means home. They're both in Norwegian. Even though Icelandic is closer to what Asgardian would be, I prefer Norwegian.  
> 3\. I know this chapter is a bit fast-paced, and I'm sorry about that. I really wanted to get everything out before I went to sleep, so it may seem like it's all speeding by.  
> 4\. I'm sorry I've been slow with the updates! I just started work on Monday which is good, but it means that I'm much busier. I don't know how often I'll be able to add chapters now; we'll just have to see. I'm currently actively working on two other series, and another is in the works (if you liked "Rosemary", I might just be making it into a chaptered story 👀) so I've got a lot to update.  
> 5\. Thanks to every who has subscribe!! It means a lot!!

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For the third time, Thor raised his axe in victory. Loki never stood a chance. The spectators cheered, but their patience was wearing thin, as was the Grandmaster's. Which is exactly why you made an important decision in that moment as the Sakaar natives pushed past to exit the arena. Natasha felt your hand squeeze hers, and she squeezed back.

"Plan C?" She asked.

"Plan C."

The moment the crowd absorbed you and the assassin, the shadows whispered between your robes and you were taken from her side. Tasha had been expecting this, but she still found herself looking for your face among the multitudes. She hated to be separated from you after everything that had happened, which she mentioned earlier.

" _I don't like it."_

_"I know, Tasha. I'm not a big fan either. We both wanted to leave Sakaar with as little conflict as possible but it looks like that won't be an option."_

_"And what if they capture you?"_

_"Then I'll escape."_

_"[Y/N]-"_

_"I'll be fine."_

_"I've heard you say that a thousand times, and then watched you die. In the past year, I've lost you more times than I can count. I fail to see how splitting up is going to solve our problem."_

_"You know we have to do it."_

_"Do we?"_

_"We've done this exact thing on dozens of missions, what makes this time different?"_

_"I can't lose you this time."_

When you appeared in the vacant Champion's quarters, you were surprised to find that it had changed since you broke in two days ago to explore. Now, the red stripes were blue, and the bed had glass tendrils emerging from its frame; a pattern you recognized as the sculptures that formed when lightning struck sand. No doubt, they had been dug from the arena floor after one of Thor's fights. The shelves with various jars and alcoholic products had been scrapped and turned into a weapons rack (though the Lord of Thunder only ever fought with Stormbreaker) and beanbags still littered the floor. There was a door to a toilet in the back, and a massive steaming bath. The window had been cleaned since you visited last, and you could look out over Sakaar and it's skyscrapers and speeding ships and feel like you were watching a movie screen rather than living on an alien planet.

You called the shadows to you from under the bed, just enough to settle into the palm of your hand. The darkness swirled restlessly and seemed to suck the light from your skin.

"Jeg er trygg," you whispered into its emptiness, and the shadows crumpled like sand and fell between your fingers. You knew Natasha would get the message that you were safe.

Hearing footsteps in the hallway, you ducked into a dark corner of the room (or as dark as a room with a window for a wall can be), and waited. Within seconds, Thor had passed through the barrier and into his quarters, not even glancing your way as he began tearing off his armor in frustration. You waited until the footsteps of the guards that had brought him here faded away before revealing yourself.

"Thor."

The god jumped, and the medallion he had in his hand went flying. Nearly tripping over his own feet, he managed to just brush his fingertips against the falling token, but missed and it hit the floor with a resounding _clang_. He stiffened quickly, and shifted his weight to one foot so he could place a hand casually on his hip. But he couldn't seem to find a grip, and eventually gave up and let his hand fall against his thigh.

"[Y/N]. I knew you'd be here. Just thought I'd, you know, keep them from feeling suspicious. Those guards are smarter than they look," he laughed nervously, and you smiled. You had missed Thor.

"Mhm, of course."

"So, what brings you here?" He was obviously keen to change the subject.

"We're breaking you out."

"Pardon?"

"We're breaking you out. Our original plan fell through, so we're just gonna go ahead and take you out-"

"And what about Loki?"

"Tasha's handling Loki."

"You split up?"

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"No, of course not. I mean, you are a strong independent woman on your own, I'm just, surprised, is all. Romanoff seems to have taken a liking to you..."

"Yeah, listen, I'd love to talk, but we really need to get out of here."

He nodded quickly and began fumbling with his armor, picking it up from where he had thrown it on the floor and tacking it on. You gave him a moment and studied the window closely, looking for a week point. Eventually you decided it wasn't worth it to cause a ruckus.

"Grab my hand," you ordered, and Thor looked up in surprise from where he was bent over his shin guards.

"Your hand? Yes, of course-"

The second his fingers intertwined with yours, you focused your power on a little hut in the Sakaar slums, and darkness enveloped you. You could faintly hear Thor's breath leaving his lungs.

"My God," he breathed, and you were standing in the house you and Tasha and Loki had been living in for days.

"You really can teleport!" He grinned excitedly and you nodded, dropping his hand with a proud smile.

"Now I'm going to check on Tasha. Stay here, whatever happens. I'll bring them back."

"And then what?"

"And then," you sucked a breath in, trying to calm your nerves, "and then we try and get back home."

Natasha had never been more frustrated in her life. Well, maybe that was a lie, but she was definitely not happy about her hidden cameras and wires being removed from the Grandmaster's tower. Still, she could make do. The hallways all looked too much the same, and there was an air of anticipation pervading them like a hidden hand around the planet's throat. It was only a matter of time before you left with Thor, and the Grandmaster figured out his champion was gone and your agreement was broken. So she rushed through those halls on ballerina's feet, barely touching the ground, moving so quickly that even the guards had hardly turn around before she was gone from view. When the doors to the main prison block met her like immobile walls, Tasha finally paused. Now what? All her gadgets for controlling this tower had been removed by someone, and she didn't see a control panel anywhere. As she considered all the options, she heard something moving behind those doors. In an instant, her back was to the wall on the left of them.

When the heavy metal slid open and you stepped out with Loki in tow, she immediately rushed forward again and grasped your arms, taking a moment to asses your body for injuries. Loki scoffed.

"Can we please save the affection for later?"

You gave him a firm smack on the shoulder and he grinned, happy to have gotten a reaction, but Natasha was proud. You were acting more and more like your fiery self each day, and she loved it.

"I though you were taking care of Thor?"

"I already got him. Figured you might need help."

She nodded, but didn't have time to respond because more footsteps were coming around the corner. With lightning speed, you grabbed the arms of your girlfriend and your friend, and pictured the hut on the edge of town.

"You've returned!"

Thor's booming voice brought you back to reality and you laughed with relief, seeing that everyone was there.

"You did it," Natasha whispered proudly in your ear and kiss you on the cheek. You blushed wildly.

"That is wonderful and all," Loki began, sidestepping a hug from his brother, "but how are we going to leave this wretched place?"

They turned to you and for a moment, you felt scared. On the field, you had always taken orders from Steve or Tony or Fury or even Tasha, but you had never given orders. You were a soldier more than a superhero, but maybe that had changed in the last few months. 

"I'm going to try and teleport us back home."

"You can't possibly be serious-" Loki interjected.

"I am. On Asgard, I was still too weak to move between realms. But after a few days here, and after what happened in the arena, I think I can pull this off. It's either teleporting or stealing a ship, and I'd rather get exhausted trying to teleport than have to fly up the Devil's anus."

Tasha snorted.

"Why can't Thor just summon the Bifrost?" She asked, but the god of thunder shook his head.

"Only Heimdall's sword can summon the Bifrost. My axe is merely a key to a part of the gateway; one that has two engrained locations: Earth and Asgard."

"Since we're in neither," Loki continued, "it has no ability to open that gateway."

You nodded. Loki had explained this earlier, but apparently never told Natasha. You weren't surprised, though. They weren't exactly on the best of terms.

"So, let's go," you gulped, and reached your hands out. The others formed a nervous circle, all gripping each other tightly. You faced Loki, who, though pessimistic, nodded encouragingly. Thor smiled like a ray of sunshine, and Tasha squeezed your hand. With one last look at her round, beautiful face, you closed your eyes, and breathed in deeply.

The room disappeared, and the shadows greeted you. You could feel them consuming you and though you didn't know, they were tracing black patterns on your skin and forming protective armor like they had in the arena. Your eyes, if you had opened them, were pitch black, with stars in their corneas and power in their depths. The world was nothing but interconnected darkness to you, nothing but tendrils of shadow that whispered your name like a prayer.

"Hjem." You commanded them.

The shadows obeyed.

Before you even took your first breath of air, you could feel the grass on your feet and hear the gasps of your teammates. It smelled like... Like... Home.

Your eyes opened, but they didn't care for what they saw.

There was no tower to greet you. Only an open field and delapidated gray house.

You collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter despite its ups and downs. I know the ending may be a bit confusing, but it'll be explained in the next chapter, don't worry!


	15. Virginia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories are coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my loves! I'm so sorry it's been so long since I updated. I've been super busy and haven't had the chance to sit down and write for awhile.  
> I'm not sure if this chapter is gonna make sense, I'm kinda experimenting with a few things.

Previously...

The world was nothing but interconnected darkness to you, nothing but tendrils of shadow that whispered your name like a prayer.

"Hjem." You commanded them.

The shadows obeyed.

Before you even took your first breath of air, you could feel the grass on your feet and hear the gasps of your teammates. It smelled like... Like... Home.

Your eyes opened, but they didn't care for what they saw.

There was no tower to greet you. Only an open field and delapidated gray house.

You collapsed.

_______24,550

You wished you could say that you didn't know these white walls. That you didn't know every crack and crevice, every creaking board, every corner and every room. But you did, and as you opened your eyes and looked at the yellowed ceiling, you began to feel empty. Like the life had been sucked out if you. You couldn't be upset, not when there was nothing to feel.

Hadn't you asked the shadows to take you home?

Suddenly you were aware of a faint, pungent odor all around you. It had a musty air about it, like it'd been sitting for years. Your nose curled and you sat up quickly, steadying yourself with your arms on the bed to keep from tipping over. You were still weak from dimensional travel and it was unlikely that you'd recover soon. You screwed your eyes shut, letting darkness consume you, so that you wouldn't have to look at the room around you. You already knew what it looked like, so why should it matter?

"[Y/N]?"

You could hear Tasha's voice in the doorway but you still didn't open your eyes. You didn't want to admit that this was real. She repeated your name again and floorboards creaked under her as she approached. You still didn't open your eyes.

"[Y/N], is this where you grew up?" 

The question was blatant and her hand on your arm was soft but you flinched, too many memories coming back.

"Yes."

She didn't respond, just sat next to you. In all the years Tasha had known you, you spoke very little of your childhood. The Avengers all knew it was something dark by the pain in your eyes when they asked, but that was all you ever revealed. Everything after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. they knew -- you weren't a secretive person. But this had been your one unplayed card, this gray house in a field in Virginia. This was the one thing you kept locked away, never talked about, never mentioned. The first twelve years of your life were full of memories you had buried the moment you left, and now they were coming to the surface again.

"We found two bodies under the porch," Tasha declared bluntly, but you already knew. It didn't take much guesswork to realize that your parents were dead. So that was the smell, then.

"I bet Old Tom buried them without a coffin," you said, your voice chillingly calm. You still refused to open your eyes, enjoying the moments of innocence. Tasha didn't press, still there, watching you carefully.

She didn't know exactly why you refused to open your eyes. You were never one who so blatantly ignore trauma. You were skilled at dealing with it gracefully but right now, you looked like a toddler who didn't want to talk to their parents. Maybe it was a good thing, though, that you didn't open your eyes. Tasha wasn't sure if she could bear to see the pain in them.

_______24,547

It had now been eight days since you arrived. Five of which you were unconscious. The other three Thor, Loki, and Natasha had spent watching you. Everyone would get up in the morning and eat (you didn't know where they got the food from and didn't really care) and they would go about some business outside while you stayed in the room you had woken up in, staring listlessly at the walls. They didn't press, didn't ask. There was a slightly threatening air about you, like breaking you from your reverie would have consequences. Tasha knew you were processing, albeit slowly, so she continued to talk to you in hopes that a sense of normalcy would help. You never talked back, just kept on staring at the walls.

You knew they had moved your parents' bodies somewhere. You had heard the truck pull up and the men hop out and the disgusted voices that followed, but it didn't really matter. Briefly you wondered how long your parents had been shoved under that rotting porch, how long this house had been vacant. You didn't wonder how they died, though. You knew.

Loki would sometimes sit with you, too, and every once in awhile you responded. Natasha felt bad that she couldn't get a reaction out of you, but even Thor with his huge grin couldn't do anything. With Loki, on the other hand, you could communicate without speaking or doing much of anything. Your fingers would twitch and the shadows would respond. He'd flick his wrist and the curtains would open. It wasn't a conversation, but there was comfort in it. The magic reminded you that you weren't the same girl who had been trapped here for so many years. You were an Avenger. A superhero. A god. Still, it was like you had never left. The house held you captive in its iron grip and you stayed, mind blank and chest empty. Maybe if you hadn't been so weak, you would've already left. But you were still here, eight days later.

Last night you had woken up and heard the others discussing how to bring you back. Tasha wanted to pay a psychiatrist to stay on-base for you, while Thor and Loki argued that maybe you should heal in Asgard. But Tasha wasn't about to lose you again, and you could hear her strained voice arguing. She wasn't often upset, but you struck a particular cord in her. For her sake, you made up your mind.

"I want to go home," you announced over dinner, and the others nearly jumped in surprise. Tasha nodded.

"There's a quinjet outside."

You hadn't heard the quinjet land, but then again, you may not have been conscious when it did. You finished dinner, and Tasha got up and began gathering everyone's things. Thor, in the meantime, offered his arm for you to take. There was a relieved expression on his face, and you could tell this place had taken its toll on everyone.

Before you boarded the quinjet, you turned around, and took in the scenery.

Same field, same house, same cicadas in the trees and grass blowing in the evening wind. If you closed your eyes, you could remember the nights you spent sneaking out to run through the grass, to lie in it, to feel the breeze and hear the bugs and birds, to hide away from the horrible world your parents created.

You raised your hand slowly towards the old house, fingers beginning to curl. Natasha and Loki and Thor watched how, just like at the arena, your eyes darkened and inky lines etched your body. But this time, as your power consumed you, there was something very different. There was a new darkness in it, not just blackness. There was an element of pain and grief and rage that consumed you for a moment and though you hardly moved or spoke, the others found a chill settling into their bones and fear, too. There was some dark power about you now.

"Forsvinn," you muttered in old Norse.

Shadows sprung from under the porch where your parents had been buried, and seeped into every crack and crevice of the house like delicates fingers finding a hold. As the last of them clung to the roof you smiled sickly, and flicked your wrist. The house was crushed instantly, pulled to the ground by your shadows in one swift motion. You could hear the wood snap and creak and soon enough the house was nothing but rubble.

This was not your home anymore.

_Miller's Creek, Virginia, 2006_

You were curled in the cellar, arms wrapped tightly around your bare legs, shivering wildly. The walls and their shadows seemed to close in on you but you held back your whimper. Any noise would only make things worse.

It smelled like rats and mold down here in the darkness and it made you gag. Even as the floorboards creaked overhead you didn't dare move, though. You could hear voices, of your mother and father and of another man, whose weight seemed to make the floorboards sag. You couldn't make out any words but you didn't try to. The less you knew, the better.

With another shudder you closed your eyes and tried to forget everything, tried to replace this moment with a happy memory. If you focused hard enough you could feel grass beneath your feet and water at your fingertips as you leaned over the creek bed to try and grab a sparkling rock. The sun reflecting off the water was warm and the birds chirping were so cheerful and the crickets were singing and you could hear bullfrogs croaking and...

The door to the cellar swung open with a bang.

The policeman must be gone, then. Time to come out of hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?


	16. Authors Note + Final Words

My dear readers,

Before I begin, I ask that you read to the end. You can skip the note if you want, but I will be concluding the story after said note.

I'm writing today to make an announcement that will effect and will be posted on each of my chaptered stories.

For the time being, I will no longer be writing fanfiction on AO3.

This decision makes me sad because, after over a year of hard work, I have developed my stories and have written almost 150k words on this website. It has been an amazing place to gather feedback, to create a community, and to write for my own enjoyment. However, it has served its purpose, and has taken a turn that is not helpful.

I love my stories a LOT, and I love writing them. It has helped me become a better, more sophisticated writer. However, it has consumed me and parts of my life in a way that is not healthy. I no longer write things for my own work, and the novel I have been planning has fallen aside.

I have a job, an internship, a small business, school, and many other big responsibilities that demand my attention more than AO3 does, and though this past year has been extremely valuable to me, I need to let it go. Because of my addiction to fanfic writing, I have spent late night hours writing when I really needed sleep. I have written rather than doing important assignments. And I have neglected to write towards my novel, which was the original reason I joined; so I could improve my writing for said novel.

I turn seventeen in a few days. I will be starting a brand new chapter in my life, with new responsibilities and as a new person than the girl who began this over a year ago, and I don't want to be held back.

That being said, I really hope you know that I love you. The community on AO3 has changed my writing in radical and amazing ways, and I cannot thank you enough.

If you want to be in the news loop for my new novel, you can sign up for an email list on my business accounts. My business email and Instagram will be listed after this paragraph. I'd be happy to share my progress and also little snippets of the story as I go along.

serendipityscribbles@gmail.com

@lotte_art_ 

I know this is sudden. Thank you for understanding. I love you all so much!

And now, closing remarks on our story:

When Thanos arrives, you and your wife Natasha are ready. He's never seen such wrath. But it isn't enough.

After the Snap, you stay with Tasha and keep the Avengers together.

And when the Soul Stone called for the ultimate sacrifice, she couldn't stop you from throwing yourself over the edge.

But in the end, she couldn't save herself, either.

The Avengers mourned.

But you and Tasha?

Well, you and Tasha are doing just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> If you enjoyed it, please leave kudos and a comment!!  
> 


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